


Our View of the World

by head_full_of_fish



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: All this is going to be is fluff, Alternate Universe - College/University, And lots of big gestures without either admitting what they mean by them, Bokuto Koutarou & Kuroo Tetsurou Are Roommates, Bokuto plays volleyball, College, Denial, Fluff, Lots of unacknowledged feelings and emotions, M/M, Slow Burn, Soft Bokuto Koutarou, They played against one another in high school and bokuto doesn’t remember, akaashi is an English major, akaashi plays the violin, also soft akaashi, bokuto plays piano, idk how long this is going to be, it’s just free therapy tbh, just some weed, kenma and akaashi are roommates, like so SO much fluff, mild drug use, suprise it’s not, they both think it’s unrequited love, this is really just me healing from all the fics that i read that hurt these boys, tsundere akaashi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:08:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29459526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/head_full_of_fish/pseuds/head_full_of_fish
Summary: “Okay then, I’d better go. I have...” his words failed him, any possible excuse drying up as his mind floundered. For some reason, when it came to this boy he hadn’t been able to think straight one single step of the way.“Class?” Bokuto offered.“Yeah. Class.” Akaashi waved a goodbye before trudging back through the rain towards the Architecture building. All the way there he was rubbing his right hand, still holding onto that phantom heat from touching Bokuto briefly.If he had looked back even once, he might have noticed Bokuto doing the exact same thing.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 27
Kudos: 76





	1. The View from the Library

Akaashi had been watching the silver-haired boy practice his sets on the green for weeks now.

It had been his daily routine since the start of the semester. Even on days when temperatures dropped close to freezing, that boy was outside at 1:00pm without fail, endlessly tossing the ball into the air. Again and again and again.

He hadn't meant to start this routine, but every day between his Comparative Literature and Creative Writing classes he would walk to the library in the Architecture building (it was the quietest on campus), and would sit at the desk that was pushed up against a window facing the campus green. And everyday without fail, that boy had showed up during the same hour. Sometimes he would be chatting to a boy with messy dark hair, but most days he was alone. So the days when Akaashi wasn't able to focus on the book or paper in front of him, he would let his mind wander while he watched the boy.

It had been two weeks into this strange serveil that he had realized he knew this boy. Well, Akaashi, didn't _know_ him, he just recognized him from a brief encounter years back.

It had been his junior year of highschool, and they were playing a volleyball match against one of the biggest schools in the nation. Maybe it was the relentless nature that was so unchanged all this time later that brought the memory back for Akaashi, but one day, staring outside, he remembered that match. He remembered the spiker who would yell out, "Hey, hey, hey!" anytime one of his spikes went unblocked. He remembered wishing that his spiker had that much energy. It had made Akaashi excited to play, instead of his usual indifference when he was in the middle of matches. That silver-haired boy had been a force of nature that even now, Akaashi never could quite forget.

 _How odd,_ he thought, _that years later this person would strike my interest yet again._

And he was interested, in the sort of way that wildlife conservationists were interested in bird migratory patterns. He wanted to figure out how this boy worked, or rather, what exactly it was that he was working towards with adamant determination. If he was a spiker, and a good one to boot, why was he working on his sets so constantly.

He had mentioned his fascination with this stranger to Kenma once while his roommate had been playing some new Nintendo game on his Switch, and his friend had just shrugged and said, “Maybe you should just go talk to him,” his fingers never ceasing their movement on the console’s buttons.

Akaashi had huffed and not responded. Talking to him would ruin the whole thing. Right now, he was the perfect specimen to observe. He could be anyone outside of those sets. If Akaashi talked to him and discovered that he had some weird fascination with porcelain dolls or something, the allure of the whole thing would be ruined.

It had been almost two months now since the semester started, and it was raining for the first time since classes had started back up. Akaashi wondered as he climbed the library steps if the boy would weather the rain too, or if he would find some hallway to practice his sets in. 

He nodded to the student manning the library counter before taking his usual seat. He had planned on getting some work done on the essay he had due later that week, but one glance out the window and he knew that he wasn’t going to be any kind of productive today.

There he was again. Endlessly setting. Even from across the green Akaashi could tell that his eyes were scrunched up against the rain. His hair that was normally gelled into what Akaashi liked to think of as horns was now damp and hanging down in front of his face.

It felt like some odd vigil, sitting and watching that boy continue his sets despite the weather. As if his determination demanded recognition, and Akaashi was the only one able to step up and deliver it. His attention was absolute.

That’s why, Akaashi saw when the boy’s foot slipped on the grass where he was standing. Akaashi saw as he fell, the movement dramatic and seeming to last a lifetime. Akaashi saw as he knocked his head on the ground so hard that it bounced, and then didn’t move at all.

Without realizing it, Akaashi had stood up in his chair, and when he turned to sprint out of the library, he realized he must have made a bit of noise doing so because everyone else was shooting him equally confused and annoyed looks.

He didn’t care. He didn’t stop when the student behind the counter asked what was wrong as he ran past, only called back over a shoulder, “I’ll come grab my bags in a minute,” and ran down the steps.

He was pushing the doors of the Architecture building open one moment, running across the green and getting soaked down to his undershirt another moment, and then suddenly he was there, kneeling by the still-slumped figure of the boy he had been watching almost religiously all this time.

Akaashi grabbed his shoulders and turned him so that he was facing up towards him. The boy’s hair was plastered to his forehead from the rain, his mouth slightly parted and his face slack. This close, he could see the black roots of the boy’s hair, and despite the situation, the thought that struck him was: _Huh, I guess he dyes his hair._

Akaashi laughed a bit hysterically. If that was the only thought that his mind could provide right now, he was screwed. They were both screwed. He took a centering breath. Now was not the time to start freaking out. He had run out here without a plan, but that did not mean that he was incompetent in these sort of situations.

Before he could start checking on the boy and assessing what needed to be done though, the boy’s eyes cracked open and Akaashi’s eyes met the boy’s golden ones.

It was a moment before Akaashi could speak, not quite trusting his own voice for some reason.

He finally managed a, “Are you alright?”

The boy just blinked up at him for a few seconds, as if processing what he was seeing, before sitting up. Akaashi wanted to protest that he shouldn’t move around yet, but he didn’t really have any authority to tell this stranger what he could and couldn’t do.

The boy groaned and rubbed his forehead where Akaashi could already see a red bump forming.

“I’m fine. A little fall won’t slow me down, don’t worry!” Still rubbing at his head and wincing slightly, the boy turned and gave Akaashi a huge grin at that.

Akaashi didn’t really know what to say to that, so he stood up and offered a hand down to the boy in lieu of saying anything at all. Their hands met and warmth shot through Akaashi at the touch, such a stark contrast between that grasp and the freezing rain that was still pouring down around them. As soon as the boy was standing, Akaashi let his hand drop.

“Thank you for coming to check on me!” The boy said, sounding upbeat and cheerful despite the spill. 

“No problem,” Akaashi said a little warily. Now that it was obvious that the boy was alright, he was beginning to realize how strange it was to have run out to help a stranger, especially when said stranger seemed to not really need any help. He was thinking of ways to extract himself from the situation as fast as possible, before the boy realized how awkward the situation had been. 

Despite Akaashi’s concerns however, the boy held out a hand to him and offered another huge smile, “My name is Bokuto by the way.” The name clung through Akaashi and something snapped into place inside him. Bokuto. For weeks he had wondered what the boy’s name might be, and nothing had seemed to fit. That name however, was perfect. A horned owl. The way his hair was normally styled, it fit a little _too_ well.

Akaashi quickly shook his hand and that intense warmth shot through him like an arrow again, “Nice to meet you. I’m Akaashi.”

“Akaashiiii,” Bokuto said, drawing out the last syllable of his name like he was testing it out, “Nice to meet ya!”

“Nice to meet you too,” he paused for a beat, “Are you sure you are alright?”

Bokuto nodded emphatically, “Fine as can be! And I feel a lot better knowing that if anything bad had happened, you would have been there to help.”

Akaashi felt a blush rise to his cheeks at that, and he dropped his gaze from Bokuto’s, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

“Okay then, I’d better go. I have...” his words failed him, any possible excuse drying up as his mind floundered. For some reason, when it came to this boy he hadn’t been able to think straight one single step of the way.

“Class?” Bokuto offered.

“Yeah. Class.” Akaashi waved a goodbye before trudging back through the rain towards the Architecture building. All the way there he was rubbing his right hand, still holding onto that phantom heat from touching Bokuto briefly.

If he had looked back even once, he might have noticed Bokuto doing the exact same thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading <3 more fluff on the way!


	2. The View from the Dorm

Akaashi was damp and miserable. He had suffered through the Creative Writing workshop he had after running out into the rain to see if that boy, Bokuto apparently, was alright. The English building was freezing though, so it had been 50 minutes of him shivering in the back of the class, hoping that no one took note. 

Using his umbrella on the way back to the dorms from the English building had felt a bit like a joke, but at least he was spared any overly-concerned looks from the strangers he passed on the way there.

He pushed open the door to his room, sighing loudly to announce his arrival. Kenma glanced up from his game to give Akaashi an assessing look before turning back to the screen.

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks, Kenma. You’re a real confidence booster there.”

Kenma shrugged, “So what happened?”

“I helped out a guy who fell down.”

“And apparently took a bath while you were at it.”

“Ha, ha, ha,” Akaashi said, deadpan, then sighed again.

“I’m going to shower,” he said, dumping his backpack on the floor by his bed and gathering up his towel and spare clothes.

“Have fun,” Kenma said, still not looking up from his game.

Akaashi walked across the hall and into the bathroom, grateful that it was empty for once. He turned the water on and the hiss of it hitting the tiles filled the bathroom. Cranking the heat up, he stood back and peeled his clothes off while waiting for the water to start steaming.

When he finally stepped into the stream, he almost moaned at the feeling. His shoulders loosened up at the heat as he worked his fingers through his curls, trying to untangle them.

As he defrosted, he thought back to his encounter with Bokuto, the same encounter that he had spent the past two hours purposefully avoiding thinking about. 

It was odd, for so long Akaashi had been certain that knowing anything about the mysterious figure on the campus green would ruin the allure of him, and yet somehow he was more intrigued than ever. 

Everything about that encounter, from Bokuto’s name to the way that his eyes scrunched up when he smiled because his cheeks were so big, made perfect sense. Maybe it was because Bokuto was still a bit of an enigma to Akaashi that learning that little bit of information hadn’t ruined everything. For the life of him, Akaashi still couldn’t figure out why someone who had just been knocked unconscious had been so willing to smile. 

He wasn’t sure he had ever encountered anyone else like Bokuto, and strangely enough, he thought that might be a wonderful thing.

After he had finished his shower and changed, he went back into the dorm room to find Kenma in the exact same position he had left him in, though at some point he had pulled his hair up into a half-bun.

When Akaashi shut the door behind him, Kenma set his console down, looking up for once from his game.

“Soooo what are the odds that you come to a party with me tonight?”

Akaashi turned, giving Kenma a look like he had sprouted a horn on his forehead.

“Okay first of all, are you alright? Never once have you asked me to go out with you, and on a school night no less!”

Kenma just sighed and didn’t respond, so Akaashi continued, “And second of all, I really, _really_ don’t want to after the day I’ve had. I’m cold and tired and I want to sleep. A party sounds kind of horrible right now. So I’d say the odds look pretty grim.”

Kenma sighed and laid back against his headrest, a dejected look pushing his lower lip into a pout, “C’mon, Akaashi, I never ask you to do things with me.”

“I know. That’s why I’m deeply disturbed right now.”

Kenma huffed out a breath, “You know, I didn’t want to bring this up, but you’re really not giving me any more options here.”

Akaashi put his hands on his hips, bracing himself for whatever Kenma was about to say.

“Do you remember last semester?”

“You’re going to have to be a bit more specific, Ken.”

“The music room ordeal?”

Akaashi groaned. And he knew that he had already lost, “Goddammit, Kenma. Why are you bringing that up?”

Kenma held his hands up in surrender, “Hey, hey I tried to ask nicely. You told me then that you would do anything in exchange for-“

“Alright, alright, you win. I’ll go. Just... don’t talk about it, please. It brings back,” an involuntary shiver ran through Akaashi, “bad memories.”

Kenma just smiled and picked up his console again, the sounds of Mario jumping around emanating from the small speakers, “We leave at nine-thirty.”

Akaashi groaned and flopped down on his bed, determined to get at least a few minutes of peace before the party. He was already drifting off when it finally occurred to him to ask Kenma why he suddenly wanted to go to a party.

 _Oh well,_ he thought, _I’ll just ask him once I wake up._ He was asleep a heartbeat later, and Kenma let out a little sigh of relief that he hadn’t been asked when he noticed Akaashi’s steady breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for readingggg <3


	3. The View of a Wingman

It was nine-forty and Akaashi still wasn’t ready. And Kenma, _Kenma,_ was tapping his foot impatiently. Akaashi couldn’t remember a time where the boy had ever been wound up before. He guessed that whatever reason Kenma had for wanting to go, it was more important than he was letting on.

When Akaashi had asked him about it after his nap, Kenma had gone a little pink in the face and hadn’t answered, diverting with questions as to why Akaashi had come home in such a bad mood after class that day. 

That asshole was too smart for his own good. Not wanting to talk about it, Akaashi had just scowled and started getting ready. Now, twenty minutes later, he couldn’t find his shirt and it was going to drive him insane. 

Kenma was in his usual attire of a orange sweatshirt and black sweatpants with black shoes, his hair still tied up in a bun. 

And he was getting restless.

“Hang on, I thought I left it over here.” Akaashi was looking for the navy button down that was his usual party staple in the back of his closet where it usually say undisturbed for long periods of time, but it was nowhere to be found.

“Just wear something else, Kashi! We need to go!”

“Why? Are you meeting someone?”

Akaashi didn’t turn to see Kenma’s ears go pink, but his roommate’s silence told him enough. 

_Interesting,_ he thought, but didn’t dare say. Even around Akaashi Kenma was still shy about some things, and he wasn’t going to push him any further than he would be comfortable with. There was a line between teasing and pestering, and Akaashi was always hyper-aware of not crossing that line if he could help it.

He groaned in frustration, throwing the pile of clothes he had gathered in his hands onto the floor. 

“Just wear this,” He barely had time to turn and catch the sweatshirt that Kenma threw at him. It was the exact same as the one the bleached-blonde boy was wearing, but black instead of orange.

Kenma gestured a hurry-up motion with his hands and Akaashi pulled the hoodie over his head with a sigh. No use fighting it. Plus, it wasn’t like he was trying to impress anyone at this party. He didn’t even want to go, so there was no real point in putting much effort into his outfit.

Kenma turned and strode out the door, and all that was left for Akaashi to do was follow him.

* * *

When Kenma had said party, Akaashi didn’t know what exactly he had been expecting, but a handful of guys lounging around in living room, drinking beer and chatting, hadn’t really been what he had imagined. That being said, Akaashi supposed that this would be a party to Kenma. It was way over his normal tolerance for people. Kenma liked to hang out in groups of three or less genrally, so ten guys must have been a lot for him.

It wasn’t that Kenma hated people, or even socializing. It was just that he tended to turn inward at the first chance for others to take control of the conversation. In his own way, Kenma was great in groups because most of the time, people didn’t know him well enough to form real opinions about him. Not much to say about the guy who doesn’t speak except that he’s quiet. That, and Kenma had a calming effect on most people, so they tended to find a strange comfort in him without really knowing why.

Akaashi was thinking about this as he once again pondered the question of why Kenma had wanted to come in the first place. He was lost in his own thoughts enough that he didn’t even realize someone was coming up to talk to him until a familiar pair of gold eyes were looking right into his.

“Akaaaaashi! I didn’t know you were going to be here!”

“You two know each other?” Kenma asked.

“Um, not really,” Akaashi said at the same moment that Bokuto said, “Of course!” And threw an arm around Akaashi’s shoulders. It was heavier than he expected.

Kenma’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. Before Akaashi had a chance to explain, Bokuto was filling in the gaps for Kenma, “Akaashi is my actual savior,” he said.

“I was practicing my sets on the green and fell and passed out, and the next thing you know, this guy is helping me up! In the pouring rain! He’s like my own personal superhero!” 

“Interesting,” Kenma turned to look at Akaashi, one eyebrow lifted accusatorially, “I guess Akaashi forgot to mention that to me.” He turned and held out a hand to Bokuto, and Bokuto lifted his arm from Akaashi’s shoulder to shake it, “I’m Kenma, by the way, Akaashi’s roommate.”

Bokuto swiveled his head around then, searching behind him for someone before turning back to Kenma with a smile, “Nice to meet you! I’m Bokuto, Kuroo’s roommate! He’s back in the kitchen if you were looking for him.”

Kuroo. Perhaps he was the reason that Kenma was suddenly interested in socializing. Akaashi didn’t miss the fact that Kenma’s ears were a little pink as he muttered his thanks and headed off towards the kitchen.

Akaashi turned to Bokuto, who was now smiling at him with his hands on his hips, “How did you know that Kenma was here to see Kuroo?”

Bokuto’s grin grew wiser, though Akaashi wasn’t sure how that was possible, “Just a hunch. Kuroo’s pretty obvious when he’s into someone and he told me that he had invited a guy named Kenma over tonight. He really wasn’t sure he was going to come though.”

Bokuto slapped him on the back, just a little harder than was comfortable, “And who would have guessed that you were going to be his roommate! It seems like fate, Akaashi.”

“I guess you could call it that.” Everything that had happened with Bokuto so far had felt a little bit like fate, but he wasn’t going to tell him that. No need for him to find out that Akaashi had been weirdly watching him for weeks now. It was a little too stalker-ish for Akaashi’s liking.

“So, Akaashi, tell me,” Bokuto started off towards the kitchen, presumably to get a drink, and Akaashi trailed behind, not sure where else to go, “What’s your deal? What are you majoring in?”

“I’m an English major with a concentration in creative fiction, what about you?”

“No way, that’s awesome! So you want to write, I guess?”

They were in the kitchen now, and sure enough, Kenma was in one of the corners, leaning against the countertop talking to a boy with messy black hair and looking _bashful_. It took Akaashi a moment to recognize the black-haired guy as the one that sometimes would be practicing sets with Bokuto out on the green. 

The pair of them didn’t even notice Bokuto or Akaashi coming in, or chose to ignore them was more likely, since Bokuto’s volume was quite loud.

Akaashi shook his head, trying to concentrate on Bokuto’s question, “No, I really just want to be an editor for fiction writing.”

“Oh okay,” Bokuto had grabbed two cups from a cabinet and was topping them off with foamy beer from bottles he had pulled from the fridge at some point when Akaashi wasn’t paying attention, “So that means you probably have a crazy attention to detail, right?”

Akaashi blinked, a little surprised at the conclusion, “Yeah, I guess so.” Most people just commented that he read a lot, which was true, but also a very small part of it. He read, but as he did so he was usually keeping an eye on sentence structures and the flow of certain passages as much as he was paying attention to the stories themselves. Every word was an artist choice by the writer, and Akaashi had always thought that the authors deserved a little attention to the way that they formed their craft.

“To answer your earlier question, I’m an education major, but I’m really just here to play volleyball. I want to go pro after I graduate.” Akaashi had assumed the volleyball part, but the education major was a bit of a surprise. He supposed it fit though. Even though he didn’t know much about the guy, he could picture Bokuto’s energetic personality being perfect for a big group of kids.

“What position do you play?” Akaashi asked, taking a sip of the beer Bokuto had handed to him.

“Right spiker, though I’m trying to round out my skills a bit more.” That explained the set practices, then.

Their conversation continued as Bokuto walked back into the living room and Akaashi followed him again. It was mostly just Bokuto carrying the conversation, with a smattering of remarks from Akaashi. It was nice, not having to worry about the dialogue between them dying out. Akaashi was as bad as Kenma was when it came to hanging out with strangers. He hated the stress of small talk, but talking to Bokuto was surprisingly easy.

Eventually, Bokuto turned to Akaashi, his face a tad more serious than normal, and said, “Seriously, Akaashi, thank you for helping me out earlier. It was pretty stupid of me to be out there in the rain. And you got all wet running out after me. I feel a bit bad, but also sort of not? Because I got to meet you!”

Akaashi didn’t know how to respond to that, so he took a long drink of his beer while he collected his thoughts.

“I’m just glad that I as there to help, though I didn’t really do much...”

“Are you kidding? Waking up to-“ Bokuto cut himself off and coughed, his face a little red, “Well, regardless, I really appreciated it.”

Akaashi gave Bokuto a small smile at that and for a second, Bokuto just stared at him, then shook himself, like he was trying to rid his mind of cobwebs.

“Anyway,” he said, turning to face the group of chatting guys, “Everyone, this is Akaashi. Akaashi, this is everyone.” Very helpful distinction there. But throughout the night, Akaashi was able to pick up on the names of a few of the guys. It seemed like most of their University’s volleyball team was there. In fact, aside from Akaashi and Kenma, all of the guys were on the volleyball team, which would normally have made Akaashi feel a bit like an outsider.

But apparently Bokuto’s approval of Akaashi meant that the rest of the team approved as well, because they were nothing but kind and inclusive the whole night.

Kenma and Kuroo spent most of the evening chatting in the kitchen, and when Akaashi had walked in to get he and Bokuto a refill on their drinks, they had just migrated to a different spot along the counters. 

He still wasn’t going to push Kenma too much about Kuroo, but he could at least give him a little grief about abandoning him as soon as they had showed up. Why had he even asked Akaashi to come in the first place if he was just going to flirt all night? 

Not that Akaashi minded, if he were being honest. Sure, it had sounded dreadful at first, but now that he was here he was almost enjoying himself. And the strange thing was, the more that he was learning about Bokuto, the more interested he became. Whatever odd spell this boy had cast on him still hadn’t worn off. Their clock still hadn’t struck midnight, so he hadn’t had the chance to turn into a pumpkin.

The day had been long though, and Akaashi had just started debating the merits of leaving his roommate behind and heading back to the dorm when Kenma was pushed out of the kitchen door by Kuroo, who was nagging him about getting some sleep. It was cute. Kenma could use someone to pester him about sleeping, God only knew that he never got enough of it, and he never really appreciated it when Akaashi mentioned it. Akaashi had a feeling that he wouldn’t protest too much if it was coming from Kuroo though.

Kuroo walked up to Akaashi and held out his hand, “Sorry, I never actually introduced myself. My name’s Kuroo.”

Akaashi shook it, “Akaashi.”

“Kenma’s told me a lot about you, Akaashi. I hope to see you around more! I promise I’ll come chat with everyone else next time.”

They had walked all the way to the door while talking, leaving everyone else and the loud conversations behind them.

Next time? Akaashi didn’t bother to ask. This was fun once, but he wasn’t about to make crashing the volleyball party his regular gig. Kuroo turned to say bye to Kenma, reaching around to straighten his hood as he did so, and Akaashi turned to give them a little privacy.

To no one’s surprise, Bokuto was waiting when he turned.

“Are you two heading out?”

“Seems like it,” Suddenly, Akaashi was a lot less eager to leave, though he wasn’t sure why. He had been talking to Bokuto all night, and it wasn’t like they were actually friends or anything. He had no reason to want to stick around for longer.

“Be sure and get back safe. Oh!” Bokuto suddenly exclaimed, “Let me give you my number and you can text me when you make it back.”

Akaashi nodded and held out his phone to Bokuto, who added his contact in with a little owl emoji next to it.

After Bokuto gave him his phone back, they stood there awkwardly for a moment. Akaashi had always hated goodbyes like this, but Bokuto said, “Don’t be a stranger, Akaashi.” Clapped him on his back and then turned back to go sit back down in the living room before Akaashi even had the chance to say bye back to him.

He sighed and turned to find Kenma waiting for him with his hands shoved into his hoodie’s pocket, “You ready?”

“Are _you_? By all means, don’t let me cock-block you. I can walk myself home if you want.”

Kenma shoved him with his shoulder, even though it only reached to about halfway up Akaashi’s upper arm. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, sure you don’t.”

Bundled up in their hoodies, the pair walked out the door and into the night.

The door was shut, so neither of them heard when Bokuto turned to Kuroo with his wide eyes and said, “Shit, Tetsurou, I think I’m in love.”

Maybe he had drunk a little more than he had thought that night.


	4. The View from the Usual Spot

It had been a week since Akaashi had gone to the Architecture library in between his classes. It definitely was _not_ because he was avoiding seeing Bokuto. Really. He just felt the need to expand his studying horizons.

When he had told Kenma as much after his friend had confronted him about the fact that he had not only met the guy he had been watching, but _saved_ him as well, Kenma had just snorted and gone back to playing his video game.

But really, it was past time that he gave some of the other libraries a shot. Sure, the liberal arts library was always too loud, and the engineering library never had an open outlet, but they had their merits as well.

Merits like the fact that they didn’t have windows looking out at campus that would allow Akaashi to become a total stalker again.

And if he sat down with himself and was really honest, that was what this was all about. Now that he knew Bokuto, even though his fascination with the guy hadn’t waned, the fact that he had spent weeks just watching him every day was growing increasingly uncomfortable to live to with. It felt invasive on a whole new level, and suddenly he was reminded of Kenma’s teasing all those weeks ago. 

He sure as hell wasn’t going to tell Kenma that he was right though.

Since that night that he had gone to the party, Kenma had gone back three other times, and this last time, he hadn’t offered Akaashi an invite to tag along like he had before. That, plus the fact that he had actually brushed his hair before pulling it back into his bun, made Akaashi think that it wasn’t going to be a big group of guys over there that night. Maybe just Kenma and Kuroo.

Kenma hadn’t spoken much about the guy other than mentioning that he was also a spiker on the volleyball team and that he was roommates and best friends with Bokuto, the former of which Akaashi had already known and the latter of which he had correctly assumed.

Every now and then Kenma would drop comments about Bokuto around Akaashi, saying that he had been looking for him at the party and that he had said he missed Akaashi.

Last night, Kenma had said that Bokuto had asked where Akaashi studied, and when Kenma told him the time and place, the Architecture library everyday between his classes, Bokuto had said he would try and catch Akaashi there at some point.

And after a full week of not coming to this library, Akaashi was walking up the stairs to head towards his usual spot. It wasn’t because of what Kenma had said though. He definitely wasn’t showing up here again just to see if Bokuto would actually show. If he would actually skip out on practicing his sets for once. That _definitely_ wasn’t the reason why.

Akaashi sighed. He sucked at lying to himself.

He finished climbing the stairs and nodded to the student behind the counter like he always did before turning to see if his seat by the window was open like it always was.

But sitting in his chair, facing out towards the green like Akaashi had done dozens of times before, was a boy with silver hair spiked up into two points, like he was trying his damnedest to live up to his namesake.

Akaashi crossed the library floor silently, as if the boy was nothing more than an apparition and any noise would startle the illusion away.

When he was about three feet away from the desk, however, Bokuto turned his head towards Akaashi, as if he had sensed him coming up behind him.

“Akaashi!” He called out, and then winced a bit as people shot him dirty looks for breaking the silence of the space.

Now that Akaashi was considering it for the first time, Bokuto in a library seemed a bit like a paradox. Akaashi grabbed a chair from a nearby table, ignoring the looks, and set it down gently next to Bokuto’s. When he sat down his shoulder bumped Bokuto’s and he scooted his chair over a little so the accidental contact wouldn’t happen again.

Bokuto pitched his voice into a low whisper, “I heard that I could find you studying here,” he said and pointed out of the window, “Nice view.”

Akaashi was trying to think of anything but what “view” he normally saw from this seat. Anything to keep a damning blush from his cheeks.

“How did you know where I sit?” He asked instead, and Bokuto’s face split into a grin.

“Well, when I saw the window, I figured that you could probably see me practicing my sets from here,” Akaashi could feel his cheeks redden. Bokuto must have figured it out. Kenma must have said something.

Bokuto continued, “I figured that this was the only spot in the library you could have seen me fall the other day, and I have to say,” he turned to face the window, a hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck, “It’s a little embarrassing to think that you saw me eat shit like that.”

Oh. So he hadn’t figured it out. And _Bokuto_ was the one who was embarrassed? Akaashi rubbed a finger to his lips, trying to keep the smile off his face and relieved laughter from his voice.

When his eyes darted back over to Bokuto, he saw the boy’s eyes tracking that finger, some emotion in them that Akaashi couldn’t place. 

He subconsciously lowered it and Bokuto’s eyes snapped up to his.

“So-uh, why-why haven’t you been coming over to mine and Kuroo’s place lately?”

Was Akaashi imagining the fact that Bokuto seemed a little flustered?

“Oh, I really just didn’t want to intrude. Plus, I try not to make it a habit of going out on school nights.” He hadn’t meant it like that, but as soon as the words left his mouth Akaashi realized that they sounded pretentious.

“Not that there’s anything bad with going out or anything,” he tried to correct, “I just am kind of type-a about getting all my work done ahead of time. I just like to stick to my schedule.”

Bokuto tapped his fingers on the desk while he thought for a moment and Akaashi was worried that he had offended him.

“Like how you set aside time to come study in the library?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

Bokuto was smiling a bit guiltily.

“Wait-no, that’s not what I meant. You’re not like, ruining my schedule or anything. I really don’t get much done here most of the time anyway. I just kind of zone out.”

Bokuto’s smile grew a bit. Akaashi couldn’t remember every saying so much to him at one time before now. 

“I know that’s not what you meant, I was just messing with you.” Bokuto nudged Akaashi’s shoulder with his own and Akaashi’s anxiety eased enough that a small smile started tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Anyway,” Akaashi said, eager for a subject change, “Why were you looking for me?”

Bokuto crossed his arms on the desk and set his head down in them, still gazing up at Akaashi with those wide, wide eyes, “No reason.”

Akaashi started unpacking his bag, if only to give him something else to do than continue staring at Bokuto’s face. He just couldn’t figure this guy out for the life of him. Did he somehow find Akaashi as interesting as Akaashi found him?

“What class are you going to after this?” Bokuto asked.

“Creative Writing.”

“Are you writing anything for it right now?”

Akaashi just waved the journal that he had pulled from his bag.

Bokuto’s head perked up from where it had been nestled in his arms.

“Can I see?”

Akaashi froze, and Bokuto immediately added, “I mean you don’t have to show me if you don’t want to, I get it. Writing can be pretty personal.”

Akaashi nodded, “Maybe once it’s done I’ll show you.”

Bokuto beamed, “I’m going to take you up on that Akaashi.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

Akaashi had been close to finishing his mid-term paper for the class, but something was lacking in it that he couldn’t put his finger on. He loved to read and of course he enjoyed writing, but he could never fully convey the emotions he wanted to when it came to his own words. He was hoping that this class would help some with that, but so far it seemed like nothing was sticking. He had the theory down, but theory and practice were two entirely different beasts.

“What about you,” he asked.

“What about me?” Bokuto had his elbows propped on the desk and his chin resting on his hands now, still facing Akaashi, who had turned to face the window, but could still see him out of the corner of his vision.

“What class do you have next?”

“Oh, I’m done for the day. My last class was at noon.”

“Twelve? Have you been here since then?”

“Yep.” Akaashi wasn’t really sure what to make of that. It was three o’clock now, and Bokuto’s bag was sitting unopened on the floor by him, so he didn’t think that he had any work that he had been doing in the meantime.

Had he really wanted to see Akaashi that badly?

“I’m sorry that you had to wait so long for me.”

“Well,” Bokuto said, leaning back in his chair ( _God,_ Akaashi thought, _He’s in constant motion._ ), “I wouldn’t have had to have waited if I had your number.”

“You could have asked Kenma for it.”

Bokuto was quiet for a beat before he said, “I didn’t want to step where I wasn’t wanted.”

“Do you mean Kenma?”

Bokuto shook his head.

“Oh.” It took Akaashi a moment more before he could continue, “Well here,” he ripped out a piece of paper from his journal and jotted down his phone number, handing the paper to Bokuto, “Step as much as you’d like.”

Bokuto smiled like Akaashi had just handed him a piece of the sun, and for some reason his heart stumbled a bit. He was probably just feeling guilty for not reaching out to him sooner. Yeah, that must have been what that feeling was.

He turned away from Bokuto again and opened his journal, trying to ignore the presence next to him and focus on getting at least a little work done. He hadn’t been _lying_ to Bokuto, per say, when he had said that the spiker hadn’t been interrupting his schedule, but he needed to get this done by tomorrow and he didn’t want to spend his whole evening working on it if he could avoid it.

Bokuto seemed to pick up on the fact that Akaashi did actually want to work, so he quieted down, but he made no move to leave. Instead, he just crossed his arms on the desk again and stared out the window contentedly. 

Unsurprisingly, it was only about five minutes before he looked ready to burst. He turned to Akaashi and tapped him on the shoulder, miming writing with a pen when Akaashi turned to look. Akaashi dug a spare pencil out of his bag and handed it over to him. 

When Bokuto gestured to the journal, Akaashi tore out a blank page and passed it to Bokuto, who took it and immediately began scribbling on it. When Akaashi tried peeking at what Bokuto was writing down, he moved his arm so that it blocked Akaashi’s view of the paper and shot him a mischievous grin before turning back to work on whatever it was that had the pencil scratching furiously along the page. 

Akaashi rolled his eyes and turn back to his own work, which he was making infuriatingly slow progress on. He had barely gotten two sentences out in the last five minutes. He just couldn’t seem to concentrate with Bokuto’s energy nearby. Bokuto’s mere existence seemed to demand attention, even when he wasn’t doing anything particularly distracting.

After about fifteen minutes, Bokuto popped up from his seat and bounded over to the reception desk at the front of the library. Akaashi watched as he leaned against the counter, talking animatedly to the student who sat behind it. 

In five seconds flat she was blushing and giggling at whatever Bokuto was saying to her, and Akaashi scowled a bit. Even he had to admit that Bokuto was attractive. Somehow, even that ridiculous style he gelled his hair into lended to his image, an image that this girl was obviously falling victim to hook, line, and sinker.

He saw her reach behind the counter for something and hand whatever it was to Bokuto, who used it and promptly handed it back to her with a wink. Akaashi’s scowl deepened.

Bokuto practically skipped back to Akaashi, holding out the paper that he had been writing on out to him.

“You can’t open it until you finish writing the thing you’re going to show me, deal?” The smile on his face was nothing but trouble, and Akaashi was helpless to do anything except take the bait.

Akaashi slowly reached out a hand to grab the paper, which he now saw was folded and stapled together. He must have gotten the staple from the desk. Akaashi thought Bokuto had used an excessive amount of flirting just to get a staple, but he kept his mouth shut.

Bokuto didn’t release his hold on the paper, even as Akaashi tugged at it.

“Deal?” He asked again, one of his eyebrows raising as if it were trying to touch his hairline. 

“Deal.” Bokuto grinned and released the paper, and Akaashi tucked it in his journal, right behind the page where he was writing for his class.

With that, Bokuto grabbed his bag and slung it over one shoulder, waving bye to Akaashi before heading to the library doors, shooting another wink at the girl behind the desk when he passed her.

Akaashi rolled his eyes and turned back to his paper. He had half an hour before his class started, and suddenly, he had found the focus he needed to get this paper finished. He tried the note Bokuto had left him wasn’t the thing pushing him to finish, curiosity already eating away at him.

He put his pen to paper and wrote.

* * *

Bokuto had a plan. There wasn’t much to it, but it was a plan nonetheless. From the moment he had opened his eyes to see gunmetal grey ones looking down at him, he had been figuring out how to achieve one goal. 

He was trying to take Kuroo’s advice and not be too obvious about it, but when Akaashi smiled or breathed out a laugh or _rubbed his goddamned finger on his lips_ there was only so much Bokuto could do to appear like a normal, functioning person.

He didn’t want to freak Akaashi out though, so he had taken Kuroo’s advice and _not_ run after him the night of the party to confess and ask him out. Kuroo had said Bokuto, “Had a tendency to come across a bit strong,” which Bokuto had known, but had never really seen as a bad thing until Kuroo had said it with that tone.

He also didn’t want to push any unwanted feelings onto Akaashi, so his goal was simple, learn as much as he could about Akaashi and see if maybe, _just maybe,_ he stood a chance at standing side-by-side with him.

Like he said, there wasn’t a whole lot to his plan, he was mostly just acting upon moments of inspiration, but Kenma coming over to the house and the collective input of the volleyball team on how he should proceed was definitely helping.

Bokuto was practically beaming as he walked through campus back towards he and Kuroo’s apartment after leaving the library. He couldn’t believe how much he enjoyed spending time with Akaashi, or how it had instantly drawn him out of the bad mood he had gotten himself into today when he had seen Akaashi’s tall figure walk into the library and towards him. 

It was turning out to be an exciting semester after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Since Texas is effectively shut down I suddenly have a lot more time to write! I’m trying to get as much of this story out before school and work start back up again, so expect new chapters soon! 
> 
> I really enjoy putting in a few Bokuto POVs but I’m not sure yet how often I’m going to include them. We’ll just have to see! Thank you so much for reading!! <3


	5. The View of Strings

Akaashi was exhausted. Three days of nonstop classes, deadlines, and meetings with his advisors to get him ready for next semester.

He had two hours in between a meeting and one of his classes, and when he had tried to close his eyes for a second in a chair outside of his class, he had been so wound up with energy that all his mind could do was produce images of Bokuto for him to turn over. 

He still hadn’t opened the paper that Bokuto had given him, but he carried it with him everywhere. It had become like Akaashi’s own little cheerleader these last few days, urging him to finish because there was an award waiting at the end for him. 

He was restless though, and thinking about Bokuto kind of stressed Akaashi out, though he wasn’t quite sure why, so he stood up from the chair, shouldered his bag and headed out of the building.

There was always one thing that could calm him down when he was like this, and thankfully the music building was only a few feet away from the English building where his class was going to be. Maybe _there_ he could finally start to think straight.

Akaashi walked towards the lockers that were on the first floor of the music building, pulling off the key that he kept around his neck and unlocking the squeaky metal door.

He tugged the worn case out of the locker, careful not to knock it around as he did so. He headed towards the stairs and climbed to the third floor As he walked down the halls, he could hear strings and keys and brass notes softly pouring out from behind the closed doors of other people’s practice rooms. It was disjointed and none of the notes lined up with the rooms on either side of them, but Akaashi found it strangely calming nonetheless.

He spotted an empty room and ducked inside, closing the door behind him. Setting his case down gently, Akaashi opened it and pulled out his violin and bow. 

He went through the familiar steps of rosining his bow and tuning the instrument, his hands finding comfort in the actions he had taken a thousand times before.

He took a deep breath and lifted the violin up to his shoulder, gently resting his head on it, and began to play.

The notes started off slow and long, like Akaashi was trying to wake the instrument up from its long slumber. It had been weeks since he had played, and he wanted to ease back into it.

His mind wandered, and the random notes that he had been playing started taking form, his fingers quickening along the strings as they fought to form the notes he needed.

Soon, the melody of _Nothing Else Matters_ was resounding around the room. He had a deep appreciation for Metallica along with classical music, much to the chagrin of his instructors growing up, and it had been the first song that he had transcribed himself. Now, playing these notes felt like smoothing aloe over a burn, reminiscent of simpler times when the only thing he had to worry about was staying in the sun too long.

For the first time in days, he was calm and his head didn’t feel like it was swimming with a million thoughts. As his fingers played through the familiar notes, Akaashi’s mind turned to Bokuto again. He would be lying if he said that it wasn’t where he usually found his mind taking trips to nowadays.

He just couldn’t figure Bokuto out. Did he want to be Akaashi’s friend? What else could explain why he had showed up to the library, or nagged Kenma about Akaashi. 

It wasn’t that Akaashi minded, actually he found that he rather liked spending time with Bokuto, he just couldn’t figure out _why_. Why was Bokuto interested in being Akaashi’s friend? Was it some weird repayment for Akaashi trying to help him when he fell? Akaashi hoped not, but what else could it be? Akaashi didn’t find himself to be a particularly interesting person, so why was Bokuto, who was ‘personality’ personified, taking a liking to him? No matter how many times he turned the thought over in his head, he couldn’t seem to puzzle it out, and it bothered him.

Akaashi prided himself on being able to read people decently well, but Bokuto had continued to evade him. Akaashi just wasn’t quite sure yet whether that was a good or bad thing.

All he knew was that he wanted to see Bokuto again, which was perhaps the most confounding part of it all. Despite his earlier proclamations to Kenma that he didn’t want to know anything about the guy, he found himself needing to know more and more every time that he saw him. There was just some strange pull between them that he couldn’t quite figure out. Maybe that pull was what made Bokuto want to be friends with him, too.

These thoughts that had been plaguing him felt smoother with the violin playing in the background, like turning a river stone over in his palm rather than a chunk of granite. Maybe he still didn’t have any answers, but when he played, it almost felt right that Akaashi didn’t know everything.

After the last note of the Metallica song rung out around the room, he let his violin drop to his side and closed his eyes for a second, taking in a steadying breath.

 _After the school week finishes,_ he thought, _I’ll text Bokuto and see if he wants to hang out._. He had been surprised that Bokuto hadn’t sent him any texts yet, but that wasn’t going to make him shy away from finding out more about him. Maybe spending more time with him would give Akaashi the answers that he wanted.

He opened his eyes and the room seemed a lot clearer and sharper to Akaashi than it had a moment before. He lifted his violin to his chin and started playing again, letting his thoughts ebb and flow.

* * *

It was Friday now, and Akaashi was laying in bed staring up at his phone, at the text message that he had typed out and rewritten ten times over, and debating whether he should press send or not, even after all that.

“What on your phone has you staring at it like it just told you its kitten died?” Kenma asked from his bed, but when Akaashi looked over his roommate’s attention was fixed on his Nintendo Switch.

Akaashi sighed, pressing send on his phone before he could start overthinking it again. It was just a text, nothing to panic over. He tossed it down by his feet, as if a physical distance could make him less aware of it.

“It’s nothing.”

Kenma snorted, not believing Akaashi’s obvious lie, but didn’t push any further.

Not even a minute had passed before Akaashi’s phone dinged. He sat up and grabbed it, and his heart picked up the pace a little as the name on the screen lit up.

 _Hey, Bokuto. What’s up? (This is Akaashi, by the way)_ was the text that Akaashi had decided on, to which Bokuto had responded, _AKAASHI!_ quickly followed by three other texts.

 _I’m just drinking with Kuroo_

Followed a selfie of Bokuto and Kuroo, the former of which had bright pink cheeks from the alcohol, and the latter of which looked to be yelling at the TV and not paying attention to Bokuto at all.

_You and Kenma should come!_

_Well,_ Akaashi thought, _that was easy._

“Hey Kenma, want to go over to Bokuto and Kuroo’s place?”

Kenma lowered his Switch, giving Akaashi an unreadable look, “Are you texting Bokuto right now?”

How he had known, Akaashi didn’t ask, “That wasn’t an answer, but yeah. So? Want to go?”

Kenma pursed his lips a little, and if Akaashi didn’t know any better, he would have said that it looked like his friend was trying to hold back a smile.

“Sure.”

_Heading that way soon._

Akaashi paused for a moment before turning his camera on, angling it so that it caught the top of his head, his curls taking up half the picture, and Kenma in the background pulling a sweatshirt on over his head, flashing Akaashi the bird.

He sent it before he could talk himself out of it and rushed to pull on some pants.

He and Kenma were out the door before Akaashi got Bokuto’s reply:

_Bokuto [owl emoji] loved an image_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I really wrote the notes on the last chapter *right* before the world started functioning again sooo chapters will probably be a bit slow releasing since I’m playing catch up at work and in school. I hope everyone stayed safe <3


	6. The View of Wasted College Students

Akaashi was regretting many things at the moment. Chiefly, all the choices he had made that had led him to be trapped underneath Bokuto’s surprisingly heavy body. Bokuto even looked big, but it wasn’t until the full, unconscious weight of him was settled firmly upon Akaashi that he really understood how muscular and therefore _dense_ Bokuto was.

When he and Kenma had arrived at the apartment hours earlier, it was to discover an already tipsy Bokuto and Kuroo, whose sole intents were on making the newcomers catch up, saying, “You two need to _get on our level,_ ” over and over again until they had taken two shots each, both rounds met with cheers all around.

Despite the fact that he had been nervous on the way over, Akaashi was already enjoying himself, the alcohol loosening some of the tension that he usually kept pinched between his shoulder blades.

They started off playing ‘Don’t Drink and Drive’ and to no one’s surprise Kenma won every round. It was the same as a normal MarioKart game, except you had to finish a drink before you crossed the finish line and you couldn’t hold your controller and the cup at the same time. 

Kuroo’s strategy was to chug his drink at the start line. Kenma chugged his right at the end. Bokuto just kept driving his car off the map and chugging his drink while Lakitu deposited him back on the track, and Akaashi took big gulps at the beginning of every lap.

It was chaotic and loud and the one time that Kuroo had almost caught up to Kenma he had started chugging his drink so fast that he was still coughing as he urged his character past the finish line. Kuroo let out a few choice curses at that before ruffling Kenma’s hair good-heartedly. Kuroo might have missed it, but Akaashi saw Kenma’s slight blush at that.

He couldn’t remember a time when his friend hadn’t flinched away from another person’s touch. And not only that, but looked downright _pleased_ by it.

By the time that they had finished their third game, everyone was thoroughly hammered and the scene quickly devolved into Kuroo and Bokuto singing a duet of the Jonas Brother’s “Burning Up” while Kenma and Akaashi rated them from the couch like judges on the X Factor.

Akaashi couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed so hard.

Kenma was the first to crash from the alcohol, curled up on a cushioned chair like a cat, arms and legs tucked in tight.

Kuroo had gone to the kitchen awhile ago, and Akaashi couldn’t quite remember how long it had been. Things were starting to get a little hazy around the edges. His memories had started looking like peeking into a funhouse mirror, all tilted and not at all believable.

Had Kuroo really started twerking on Bokuto to Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas” at one point?

And then suddenly Bokuto was pulling Akaashi down the hallway by his arm, saying, “Come here, come here,” and Akaashi couldn’t quite remember when he had stood up or what it was that Bokuto wanted to show him, but he found he didn’t really care. He was just smiling and excited because Bokuto was excited and dammit if that guy’s energy wasn’t infectious.

Then they were in Bokuto’s room and Bokuto was showing Akaashi a poster of an owl and Akaashi vaguely remembered that earlier he had been patting Bokuto’s head saying that he looked like an owl but it just seemed really distant and hazy as he recalled it.

The room was spinning and Bokuto’s voice was the only thing that seemed solid to Akaashi until he spotted the bed. He stumbled over towards it, tripping on laundry as he went, and landed facedown amongst the piled up blankets and pillows.

 _He has enough for a whole pillow fort here,_ Akaashi thought a bit distantly. Also distant, _He smells good,_ but Akaashi couldn’t pinpoint the scent to any one thing. 

He heard Bokuto leave the room and then heard Kuroo and Bokuto in the living room singing “Everybody Talks” by the Neon Trees at the top of their lungs this time. 

He drifted off to their tone deaf screams, feeling a bit like a baby bird in a nest of blankets and throws.

* * *

Now, it was four in the morning and Bokuto was stumbling into the room, loud enough to wake Akaashi up. Akaashi, who was now significantly less drunk than he had been two hours earlier when he had passed out in Bokuto’s room.

Less drunk and infinitely more aware of his current surroundings as he watched Bokuto launch himself towards the bed with a loud, “Akaashiiiii,” on his lips. He pulled the last syllable out like gum, cutting the sound off when he landed firmly on top of Akaashi, who grunted in pain under the sudden weight, the breath knocking out from his lungs in a _’whoosh’._

“I have something to tell youuuu,” Bokuto was drawing out the end of his words, their ends and the starts of the next ones slurring together.

Akaashi managed to suck in enough breath to say, “ _Christ,_ you’re heavy.”

Bokuto propped his chin on Akaashi’s chest to look at his face, those eyelids already halfway closed over his gold eyes and quickly sinking further, like they were physically weighted down. 

He pushed out his bottom lip in a pout, “That’s mean. I work out, you know, Akaashhhh...” Akaashi’s name turned into a slow exhale, the last disappearing into unconsciousness as Bokuto’s lids shut firmly over his eyes and his head drooped to the side. 

Akaashi thought he looked peaceful, his face finally getting a break from being so expressive all the time. Akaashi’s heart thudded in his chest and he told himself that it was because he was worried Bokuto might crush him. 

With his head tipping to the side and his lips barely parted, Akaashi thought he was honestly cute... until a few heartbeats later when Bokuto snored loudly, turning his head to the side and nestling into Akaashi’s chest.

Akaashi sighed. It was going to be a long night. 

* * *

Apparently, Akaashi had drifted off at some point because he woke up to find the sun streaming from a window straight into his eyes. 

It was several steps to think through where he was.

He was in Bokuto’s room, the memories of last night coming to him like singular puzzle pieces, slowly snapping together to form a picture he could make sense of. The only problem was that several of those pieces seemed to be missing, parts of the night nothing but thick haze and loud voices as he tried to recall them.

But he remembered passing out on the blankets. He remembered waking up two hours later to find Bokuto hurtling towards him and landing on top of him before passing out.

He blinked, finally taking into account his body’s position on the bed and how there was no longer a wing spiker weighing him down into the mattress.

There was a pair of arms wrapped around his waist, and when he took a breath he could feel someone’s chest against his back and could feel that person breathing warm, gentle puffs onto his neck. Breaths still thick with sleep.

He could feel that his legs were laced between that someone’s legs, warmth pressing into him from all sides.

Akaashi had a sinking feeling that he knew who that ‘someone’ was.

He tried wriggling out of Bokuto’s grasp, but his arms were caging him in, and they only tightened as he moved against them. Bokuto murmured something indiscernible in his sleep, his lips brushing Akaashi’s neck ever so slightly.

Akaashi’s skin broke out in goosebumps and he tried prying himself from Bokuto’s hold once again, this time a bit more desperately.

Bokuto made a discontented noise and turned over onto his other side at the movement, allowing Akaashi to slip off of the bed and duck out into the hallway. He closed the door quietly behind him as he went, then turned and stopped in his tracks.

At the end of the hall, Kenma’s large gold eyes were staring at him.

Akaashi straightened his back, cleared his throat, and walked past Kenma into the living room.

Kenma just stared silently after him, neither of them saying a word, but Akaashi could have sworn there was a shadow of a smirk on his face as he passed him. 

Bastard.

When he reached the living room, he was hit with the scent of coffee and he almost moaned. He hadn’t realized how much his head was pounding or how bright the apartment was until just then, and suddenly the coffee seemed like the only lifeline he could cling to.

He walked into the kitchen, the smell increasing as he went, to find Kuroo happily bopping around the room, preparing what looked like pancakes as well as tea and coffee. 

“You know,” Akaashi jumped a little as Kenma’s voice peeped up from behind him, still a little heavy with sleep, “It’s rude for you to be this chipper after drinking until 4 AM.” Kenma walked past where Akaashi had stalled in the doorway and towards Kuroo, his voice quiet as he asked, “Do you need any help?”

Kuroo just smiled, not taking his eyes off of the griddle where he had three pancakes currently cooking, “None at all.” He gestured to the kettle and the coffee pot beside the stove, “Help yourselves to whatever. We also have milk and orange juice in the fridge.”

“It’s like a bed and breakfast,” Akaashi said under his breath, a little amazed. If anyone had asked him what he thought Kuroo and Bokuto’s fridge was filled with he probably would have guessed peanut butter and energy drinks, not like... actual groceries. 

For some reason, the image of Bokuto and Kuroo at the store came into his mind, Bokuto bouncing along the isles, sneaking chocolates and cookies into the cart that Kuroo pushed while grabbing actual essentials for the kitchen. It made a faint smile blossom on his lips as he considered the scene, though he wasn’t quite sure why.

He helped himself to a cup of coffee, stirring in a spoonful of sugar, and Kenma helped himself to a steaming mug of tea.

His head still pounded with his hangover, but when he sat down at the small table and watched Kuroo bustle around with the happy hums of someone in their element, and watched as Kenma stood silently behind him, observing the messy-haired guy’s every movement as sipping on his tea, Akaashi felt a little at peace. 

It was a perfect snapshot of what the world _should_ be, yet so often wasn’t. 

_Well, almost perfect._

Akaashi couldn’t stop the thought before it had already breezed through his mind. He wasn’t able to sit and parse over what it meant, because at that moment, a droopy-eyed, silver-haired boy was shouldering his way through the kitchen door, yawning like it was a Herculean effort.

“Mornin’,” he drawled, drowsiness stealing the last sounds of his word.

Kuroo hummed a hello, still focused on his meal preparation and pointedly ignoring the fact that Kenma’s eyes hadn’t left him once since he entered the kitchen.

Bokuto grabbed a mug, and Akaashi was a little transfixed as he watched him pour the coffee into the mug, grab creamer from the fridge, and top it off with honey from the cabinet, all while his eyes were still mostly closed. Like he did this every morning on muscle memory alone.

When Bokuto turned towards the table where Akaashi was sitting he realized he had been staring and turned his head to the side, feeling his cheeks heat a little.

Bokuto sat down with a heavy plop in the chair next to Akaashi, his eyelids fighting to pull themselves up from where they sat hiding half of his golden eyes.

He sat with his face in the coffee’s steam and inhaled deeply, like he could breathe some caffeine into his waking body.

Akaashi took a sip of his own coffee before turning to Bokuto, “You put honey in your coffee?”

It seemed like a perfectly normal way to start a conversation, right? Not a question coming from someone who was preoccupied with the thought of how he had woken up tangled in the limbs of the man now sitting next to him. The same man who very well might not remember how he had slept last night.

Right?

Bokuto’s head bobbed, like he was actually struggling to make words form for once, “It’s a lot less bitter.”

Even though when he considered the taste something in Akaashi recoiled at the mental imagery, he couldn’t help but ask, “Can I try?”

His eyes actually widened a bit at that, like Akaashi’s words had beaten back some of the sleep that was clinging like cobwebs to him. He pushed his mug over to Akaashi and stared wordlessly as he lifted it to his face, breathing in deeply before taking a sip.

As much as he had expected to hate it, Akaashi was surprised to find that he quite liked the taste. If there hadn’t been creamer in it to soften the sweetness and alter the coffee’s taste already, it would have been gross.

He hummed appreciatively as he slid the mug back over to Bokuto, “I like it. Tastes... comforting? Is that the right way to describe it?” He shrugged, picking up his own mug and sipping at it. He still preferred just sugar. He liked the first touch of bitterness on his tongue when he drank coffee. The bite of it helped him wake up more, and Bokuto’s drink seemed as likely to lull him back to sleep as it was to wake him up.

Bokuto was still just staring at Akaashi, his face making tiny adjustments as if it couldn’t settle on any one expression to give him. _Maybe he just isn’t a morning person._ Akaashi cleared his throat, the sound coming out a little louder than he intended, and turned back towards Kenma and Kuroo. 

_Best not to ruminate on it too much._

As he watched he and Bokuto’s roommate interact, he couldn’t help but marvel at his friend. In the two years that he had known Kenma he had never once seen him so at ease around another person. Sure, he had classmates and Akaashi, and a few friends that he would go study with regularly, but Kenma had never been one to find peace in other people’s presences. 

But there he was, hovering by Kuroo’s shoulder, quietly chatting and then falling into comfortable silence. And there Kuroo was, humming softly and acting for all the world like he spent every morning with Kenma by his side. They just seemed so... _comfortable._

Akaashi hadn’t realized that he was smiling softly at the two until he turned his head and noted Bokuto’s stare that was fixed on his face, his mouth parted in fascination. The smile slipped a little, replaced by a faint blush that Akaashi lifted his mug up to his face to hide.

Why the _hell_ was he blushing so much? It was like he was a middle schooler again, his hormones and trains of thought entirely out of his control. He decidedly did not like it.

 _Maybe spending more time with Bokuto was the wrong choice._ But even as the thought was passing through is head, he dismissed it. Sure, he was acting strangely and blushing, but that was just his left over embarrassment from waking up in bed with someone he barely knew. Even if he had watched him for weeks like a total creep. 

_Oh, God,_ Akaashi thought, “ _What if he finds out that I watched and then finds out that we spent the night sleeping in the same bed. Would he think that I’m some creepy stalker?_ The thought bothered Akaashi more than he thought it would. Bokuto would be right to be freaked out though, all of Akaashi’s actions towards him had been odd. Kenma had said as much, and if Akaashi had learned anything these past few years, it was that Kenma was almost always right.

He set his mug down, unable to make eye contact with Bokuto, physically shaking his head to do so, and shame flooded Akaashi’s body. He needed to find a way to tell him. It would be weirder if he never told him.

Bokuto had broken his stare while Akaashi had been drinking from his mug and was now chatting with Kuroo from across the kitchen, drawing the conversation over towards where they sat.

“I just don’t understand how you’re so chipper,” Bokuto dropped his forehead as he drawled to Kuroo, “It’s just not fair that you don’t get hungover.”

Kuroo was happily pushing scrambled eggs around his pan, “Oh I _do_ get hungover, I’m just not a lightweight like you, Koutarou.” He said with a wink over his shoulder.

“Lightweight?” Bokuto jerked his head up then immediately flinched at the movement, “If I remember correctly, Tetsurou, you were the one who started the duets last night.”

Kuroo conceded a shrug,” Yeah, I’ll give you that. But you were the one who climbed into bed with Akaashi last night and then promptly forgot about it,” he said, one eyebrow lifted in accusation and spatula pointing towards Bokuto.

Akaashi felt his face flush deep and pulled him mug up for another long, long sip of coffee.

Bokuto was just staring open-mouthed at Kuroo, whose lips tilted into a smirk.

“Poor Akaashi has been doing his best to act normal around you all morning, since you didn’t even have the decency to wake up when he did. Haven’t you noticed how red his face gets everyone you look at him?”

How the hell Kuroo had figured out their sleeping arrangements, Akaashi had no clue. Maybe he just knew his friend well enough to guess that he would be acting differently if he had woken up with Akaashi.

Akaashi was still taking a massive gulp of his coffee, peeved that the heat of it wasn’t distracting from the cresting awkwardness, when Bokuto turned those eyes back towards him, his eyebrows trying to kiss his hairline for how high they had climbed in surprise. 

Akaashi’s rather obvious silence was damning, and then Bokuto did something that made him almost drop the mug that was clutched close to his face.

The table rattled as Bokuto’s forehead slammed onto the wood, his palms flat on the surface, “ _Akaashi! I’m so sorry!_ I really didn’t remember!”

Kenma winced as his head made contact with the table and Kuroo let out a little, “oof,” sound at the noise. 

Akaashi’s mouth fell open in surprise, nothing but stunned silence falling from his lips for a few heartbeats before his silence was tumbling into fits of giggles.

He couldn’t stop the slightly hysterical noises that were forcing their way up his throat, even as he set his mug down and clapped his hands over his mouth trying to do so.

Bokuto slowly raised his head to peek up at Akaashi from under his eyelashes and the bright red spot on the center of his forehead just launched Akaashi into a deeper fit of giggles. 

Bokuto’s face melted into a smile and then he was laughing too. Neither of them could catch their breaths, Kuroo was shaking his head and turning back to his eggs, and Kenma was staring at Akaashi like he had grown a horn from his forehead. 

It _was_ a little out of character, he supposed. But Bokuto’s reaction had made all of Akaashi’s worrying and stress and morning blushes come to a head and for once he literally had no control over how he reacted in that situation.

Plus, it was just too damn funny not to laugh at. 

Bokuto’s laughs were ebbing a little and he smiled widely at Akaashi, his eyes closed from his cheeks but all his morning sleepiness burned away from the sunshine of the window. 

And again that thought hit Akaashi before he knew what to do with it: _A perfect snapshot of what the world should be._

_Absolutely perfect._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hello on tumblr if you want to! I desire fic recs and would love to yell with someone about books and anime! https://head-full-of-fish.tumblr.com/


	7. The View from Over Book Pages

Bokuto had found him. Again. 

It wasn’t that Akaashi was avoiding him per say, but maybe he could admit that the idea of confronting Bokuto about his weird library habits was making him wary. Wary enough that his usual library haunt had seemed much too exposed the last few days.

It obviously wasn’t working though, as this was the third day in a row, and subsequently the third study spot, that Bokuto had found him tucked away in.

“Akaaaaaahiii!” The boom startled a jump out of Akaashi, who had been thoroughly absorbed in an Oscar Wilde novel on the third floor of the computer science building. It wasn’t exactly a high traffic area, so how in the hell...

Akaashi’s thoughts were interrupted by Bokuto depositing crinkling bags on the table, his smile eating up all the space on his face. He turned to Akaashi, hands on his hips, “I brought snacks!” He announced.

“Thank you?” Akaashi lowered the novel, not quite sure how to respond.

“I didn’t know what kind of snack you like, and when I asked Kenma he didn’t know either, so I brought a lot!”

Indeed, at a glance Akaashi saw dried mango, spicy corn chips, almonds, Gushers, and- 

He had to force himself to slowly extract the package from the pile of goodies, trying not to appear too eager.

Bokuto’s grin grew, “Hey, hey, Akaashi, do you like Twizzlers.”

Akaashi shrugged, embarrassed for a reason he couldn’t quite name.

Bokuto plopped down in the seat across the table from him, still grinning, and grabbed a bag of Cheez-its from the hoard.

“What are you reading?” He asked, shoving a handful of the snacks into his mouth.

Akaashi held the book up for him to read the title, “ _The Picture of Dorian Gray_? Are you reading it for a class?”

Akaashi shook his head, eyes dipping down to the page to avoid Bokuto’s wide eyes.

“No, it’s just for fun.”

“Looks like you’ve read it a few times,” Bokuto commented with a nod towards the distressed cover, “A favorite of yours?”

Akaashi huffed out a small laugh, still looking down at the pages, “No, not really.”

“Then why read it?” 

He shrugged, “It was my mom’s favorite book.” 

Bokuto’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he spoke, like he had been fighting to find the right words to settle on.

“I guess that’s as good a reason as any,” and though the words sounded a little strained and not at all like whatever Bokuto was thinking, Akaashi could have wept at the attempt at normalcy. He wasn’t looking for sympathy by playing the dead mom card right now, and the thought of Bokuto pitying him made him squirm a little.

Bokuto leaned back in his chair, like forcing himself into a casual position would ease some of the heaviness that the word _was_ had piled onto their conversation.

“Anyway,” Bokuto cleared his throat and then his voice was back to its usual excited tenor, “I hope you know I haven’t forgotten our deal, Akaashi.”

Akaashi stared a little blankly at Bokuto, whose face morphed into shocked offense, “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten?” His hand had lifted to his chest, appalled at the thought.

When Akaashi’s eyebrows started knitting together trying to recall what deal he was talking about, Bokuto whined, “Your paper! You told me you would let me read it! Don’t tell me that you’re holding out on me Akaashi. I’m going to cry if you read my letter and broke your promise.” His face had moved from shock to a pout, his bottom lip sticking out to punctuate his last sentence.

“Oh,” Akaashi felt heat rise to his cheeks, “that.”

“That.”

“No, I haven’t read it yet.”

“Did you finish your paper?”

Akaashi only hesitated a heartbeat before Bokuto groaned loudly, leaving his head back to hang over the back of the seat and draping his arm across his face, “You _are_ holding out on me.”

“But I didn’t break my promise, so you really have no reason to be upset.”

He huffed out a sigh and did a little fake sniffle, “I have every reason to be upset,” he whined, “I really wanted to read your writing, Akaashiiii.”

Akaashi couldn’t help the little laugh that slipped out, “So dramatic.” Bokuto’s arm dropped and he shot a pouting glare at Akaashi.

“You’re not missing out on much anyways,” Akaashi said, “My writing isn’t that great. Otherwise I would want to author books, not edit them.”

“Well that’s not how that works,” Bokuto said, still a little pouty, “You can be perfectly great at something and still not want to do it.”

Akaashi shrugged, “Yeah, I guess that’s true enough, but unfortunately that’s just not the case here. I’m really just not good at writing.”

“How about this,” Bokuto said, leaning forward in his chair, his eyes sparkling with mischief, “How about you bring a bit of that paper for me to read tomorrow,” his hand shot out and grabbed a few Twizzlers out of the bag that Akaashi still held captive, “And I’ll bring you more of these in exchange.”

“So hold up my end of the original deal and I get even more out of it?” Akaashi could feel the corner of his lips raise up into a smile in sync with one of his eyebrows.

“Not too bad, eh?”

Akaashi slowly leaned across the space in between their chairs, his eyes narrowing a bit. Bokuto’s eyes widened a little and dipped down to Akaashi’s lips almost involuntarily before shooting back up to meet his gunmetal gaze. Akaashi’s hand shot out and plucked one of the stolen Twizzlers back from Bokuto, leaning back and popping it into his mouth.

“Not bad at all, Bokuto.”

Bokuto blinked and cleared his throat, and if Akaashi didn’t know any better he would have said Bokuto seemed a little flustered.

He physically shook himself and then stood up suddenly, the bag of Cheez-its still firmly grasped in one hand,” I’ll-I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He had taken two steps away before he turned around, walking backwards and calling, “I might cry if I can’t read your paper tomorrow, Akaashi!”

Akaashi waited until Bokuto had turned back around and rushed down the stairs of the computer science building before shaking his head, smiling a little as he turned back to his book.

* * *

“I just don’t know why you’re so stressed out.” Kenma had given up on trying to actually help ten minutes ago and was now typing away at his phone while Akaashi lamented his situation.

“It just feels, I don’t know, vulnerable? It’s weird right?” he asked, turning towards Kenma from where he sat with his essay pages spread out before him, “Why would be want to read my writing so bad?”

“Why did you agree to it, then?” He shot back.

Akaashi huffed, turning back to the dilemma at hand. See, telling Bokuto that he could read his writing had been fine in theory. And it wasn’t like he thought Bokuto would be especially critical of his work, but the idea of Bokuto reading _this_ made Akaashi want to crawl in a hole and hibernate for half a year just to avoid thinking about it.

He had been stuck on deciding what to write about that day that Bokuto had found him in the library, and the paper that had resulted directly after that meeting had an obvious source of information.

“So let me get this right,” Kenma said, fingers still moving furiously across his phone screen, “Bokuto made this deal with you and then you decided the best response would be to write a story about you finding an owl in the rain and nursing it back to health?”

“It was supposed to be a metaphor.”

Akaashi could practically _hear_ Kenma’s eye-roll, “You don’t say.”

Akaashi dropped his head into his hands, “What the hell was I thinking?” It was rhetorical. He really didn’t want Kenma to answer that.

Thankfully he just said, “You could always just write something else and pretend like that was what you turned in.”

“But that’s cheating!”

“Cheating, sure,” he didn’t sound convinced, “I’m not sure what you want me to say, Akaashi.”

Akaashi groaned, “I’ll just give him this and never speak to him again.”

Kenma breathed a little disbelieving laugh through his nose, “I think you’re overthinking this.”

“He’s going to be _so_ weirded out.”

“Maybe he won’t realize it’s about him.”

“Yeah, right.” Akaashi piled the paper back up and tapped them on the desk, deciding that staring at the words weren’t actually going to change any of them despite his hopes, “Like I’d ever be lucky enough for him to be _that_ much of an idiot.”

* * *

Maybe the fates _were_ on his side and luck did exist after all, because nothing else could explain it.

Akaashi had been a nervous mess handing over his paper to Bokuto on a bench outside the library the next afternoon. He had been forced to sit and watch his every reaction play out over those expressive features. Akaashi hadn’t been able to look away from Bokuto’s lips, which had been mouthing the words as he read, like sitting entirely still was an impossibility to him.

His only consolation had been that Bokuto had actually brought Twizzlers with him again, and he had stress-eaten half the bag by the time Bokuto lowered the papers from his face.

His head had shot up as he finished the last line and he looked over at Akaashi eyes bright.

“Do you like owls?” He was practically vibrating with excitement.

Akaashi had thought of a million different reactions that Bokuto might have, and that was not one of them. His brain must have short-circuited because the thing that left his mouth was, “Huh?”

“You must, right? I do too! After all,” he puffed his chest out a little, “how could I not love them when I’m named after one?”

Akaashi was just blinking at him. Was he actually not putting it together? 

_Is he actually that oblivious?_

Thankfully Akaashi was spared any explanation of his writing because Bokuto had gone off on a tangent about how owls were the apex predators. Akaashi was still too taken aback by his dumb luck to really pay attention

Akaashi tuned back into the conversation at, “And that is why I was destined to be one of the best wing spikers in the country.”

“Are you really one of the best?” The question slipped out before Akaashi realized how rude it sounded, but Bokuto’s grin just grew wider across his face.

“You better believe it, Akaashi. I’ll prove it to you when you come watch one of my games.”

The relief that Bokuto hadn’t taken offense must have really been fogging up his brain, because once again the words slipped out before he could stop them, “It’s a date, then.”

And even as the horror set in immediately after speaking those words, Bokuto’s smile somehow grew even brighter, his cheeks pushing up into his eyes.

“I’m holding you to that, Akaashi.” Akaashi wasn’t sure he was breathing. Did Bokuto think he meant... 

“You better be front and center at the next game.”

Akaashi’s breath left him in one big sigh and he shook his head a little at himself while rolling his eyes at Bokuto. Of _course_ he hadn’t taken it weird. As usual, Akaashi was just overthinking things. Bokuto was just a good friend, and excited that Akaashi had actually promised to hang out with him for once instead of the other way around.

Akaashi still hadn’t figured out how Bokuto had discovered his last few hiding spots, but he could at least assume that avoiding Bokuto was never going to work out. It was like the guy had a built in Akaashi-GPS. Or just a really good informant.

“I’ll make sure to bring Kenma with me. I’m sure he would like to see Kuroo.”

Bokuto grinned, “That’s a good idea. I’ll tell Kuroo, so you better not dip, okay?”

Akaashi tilted his head down so Bokuto wouldn’t see his smile, biting on a Twizzler to cover it up, “It’s a deal.”

Even from the corner of his eyes he could see Bokuto’s grin as he looked at Akaashi.

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally forgot to post this when I finished it! please forgive meeeee these boys are giving me brain rot (not that I’m complaining)


	8. The View from the Bleachers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to this week’s episode of: I simply cannot write chapters to be the same length for the life of me. I didn’t mean for this to get so long this time around but here we are

Akaashi was on his bed, carefully freeing the staple from the paper that he had been carrying around in his pocket since it had been given to him. Kenma was at the library meeting someone to study and Akaashi had wanted to read Bokuto’s note without his friend’s remarks.

The staple finally loose, he carefully unfolded the paper to reveal large, messy handwriting. Even his pen strokes were expressive.

_I wrote you a poem, because if you are going to show me your writing, it only seems fair that I show you some of mine. If you cheated and opened this up before you finished your stuff for creative writing close this note now!! No peeking until you’re able to show me what you wrote! Without further ado, here is a poem for you._

_Akaashi, Akaashi, how studiously he studies._

_He barely looks at me, even when I’m rather funny._

_Akaashi, Akaashi, he saved me in the rain._

_Thankfully he was watching while I was trying to train._

_Akaashi, Akaashi, he really likes to read._

_I hope when he reads this, he won’t make fun of me._

Akaashi couldn’t stop the laugh that barked out of him. He slapped a hand over his mouth but it was doing nothing to cover the sound and soon he was clutching his side and wiping tears out of his eyes.

It was _so_ bad. And it was _so. Damn. Funny._

The door to his door room opened and Kenma was staring at him like he had just licked a shoe.

“I’m not even going to ask,” he said as he walked over to his bed and dumped his bag on the mattress.

It was a good thing, too, because Akaashi was still too out of breath to have given him an answer.

* * *

The crowd was near deafening as the third set was nearing its end. The entire volleyball match had been their school wiping the floor with the visiting team, and Akaashi could practically feel the energy buzzing from the players from where he stood in the stands.

Per Bokuto’s request, he and Kenma were in attendance, but they hadn’t been able to snag a seat on the first row. They had gotten there just a few minored before the first set started to find the front row dominated by what Akaashi could only call “fans” of Kuroo.

About a dozen screaming girls held up a long poster between them that read, “Tetsurou could spike my ass.” Akaashi had gotten a kick out of it, but Kenma had just scowled at them when they passed them on their way to rows further back. That scowl had only deepened when Kuroo had winked at them during one of their time outs and they had collectively swooned.

Akaashi and Kenma had settled on seats near the top of the stands, where they could sit and watch the game as well as hear one another over the crowd. They had been keeping up a constant commentary throughout, picking apart strategies and remarking on what they would have done if they were on the court.

Kenma had played volleyball as well in high school, a setter like Akaashi. They had gone to the courts on campus a few times to bump a ball around, but neither were particularly passionate about the game on their own. Akaashi’s main motivation for playing in high school had been his teammates and he thought that Kenma might have thought the same thing even if he wouldn’t admit it.

The guy was a little icy at first and a lot of people thought that he was hard to befriend, but once you were in his little circle of people, Kenma was pretty ride-or-die. The only time that Akaashi had seen Kenma snap at someone had been last year on one of those rare occasions where they had gone out and a guy had groped Akaashi while they were dancing. He had never known that the small, quiet guy could look so intimidating if he wanted to. His glare was not something that people wanted to be on the other end of.

Akaashi was a little lost in his thoughts, but he was dragged back to the present with the sound of a hand slapping against a volleyball that echoed through the gymnasium.

Bokuto had nailed a line shot and the blocker that he had evaded looked totally defeated when Bokuto landed with a, “Hey, hey, hey!” And raised his fists up in victory. Kuroo yelled out a whoop from across the court and Bokuto flashed him a grin before balancing back on his heels and waiting for the next point.

Akaashi had to admit it, Bokuto hadn’t been lying when he said that he was good. He was better than good. It hadn’t been misplaced pride when he had said that he was one of the best in the nation. Watching him play, Akaashi knew it was absolute fact.

He was everywhere at once, able to fight in the air in a way that made blockers balk. It was like once he had picked up steam, there was no way to stop him. The whole time they watched the game, Akaashi couldn’t help but remember how it had felt to be on the other side of the net from him in high school. 

During that game, it had taken less than a single set for Bokuto’s spikes to wear Akaashi’s team down to the point where they had all but given up. He remembered the frustrated sighs that had started sounding like tears at one point coming from their middle blocker. Volleyball was a mental game as much as it was a physical one and Bokuto had ripped through the wills of his team on sheer power and talent alone. Even back then Akaashi had thought Bokuto seemed like a force of nature, and from the looks of it, he had only become more unweatherable on the court.

Kuroo was amazing too, and Kenma had been quietly cheering him on all night under his breath, like he couldn’t quite contain his excitement when Kuroo would block a nasty spike or ace the other team with a jump serve.

For the first time in a long time, Akaashi felt the itch to put his hands on a volleyball and play. He wanted to see how Bokuto would spike his serves. What their dynamic would be like on the court. 

But for now, it was game point. Kuroo had just stepped up to serve again, and the crowd’s voice was rising in one long note as he ran up to the serve line and jumped, vaulting the ball over the net. The libero on the other team received it and a setter passed it to one of their spikers. A guy on the home team had received the ball near the back line and Kuroo was perfectly placed to set it.

Even from here, Akaashi could see the deliberation play out on Kuroo’s face as the ball descended towards him. He could either set to the guy he was facing, who had one blocker on him, or set behind him to where Bokuto was covered by two blockers but practically bouncing with anticipation.

The ball reached Kuroo and he leaned back, the ball falling in a perfect arc to meet Bokuto’s hand. The two blockers had pressed near the side line, trying to fortify against the killer straights that Bokuto had been dealing out all night, so they had no time to react as Bokuto angled his body in midair and sent the volleyball careening towards the gym floor with a cross-shot that echoed around the gym.

There was a beat of silence as the number on the scoreboard changed and then Kenma and Akaashi were standing and screaming and cheering along with the rest of the crowd. Kuroo ran up and lifted Bokuto off the ground, both of them laughing their asses off and Bokuto pumping his fists in the air.

After the teams had shook hands and the visitors left with their heads hung with the defeat, Kuroo and Bokuto’s team started shuffling off the court and mingling with the crowd that had come to watch.

Akaashi barely kept in his laugh when he saw Kenma’s face as the pack of Kuroo fans swarmed him. He had that look where he scrunched his face up in distaste, like someone had just told him they liked to eat mayonnaise straight from the jar in their spare time. 

Kuroo was laughing and rubbing the back of his head, basking in the praise a bit, until he glanced up and saw Kenma. The moment he spotted him, he waved enthusiastically and pushed his way through the crowd of now disappointed girls. Kenma’s lip twitched up in a way that was practically preening to him as the girls shot him dirty looks, and Akaashi snorted.

He didn’t know where Bokuto had disappeared to and couldn’t spot his spiked white hair over the crowd once he and Kenma had made it onto the court. He was too entertained by Kenma’s pettiness to notice that someone was sneaking up behind him.

Suddenly someone’s hand were wrapped around his waist and his feet weren’t on the ground anymore and after that second of surprise wore off, he laughed along with Bokuto as he swung them in a circle.

Bokuto dropped Akaashi back down on the floor, a little breathless and laughing and Akaashi threw his arms around him, still caught up in the rush of their victory.

“Congrats on the game! You were amazing!”

“Oh yeah?” Bokuto’s voice was bright and loud next to Akaashi’s ear as he squeezed him back for a second before letting him go.

Akaashi held his hands up in defeat, “I admit that you’re not all talk, Bokuto.”

Bokuto stood back, putting his hands on his hips and preened a little, “I feel like I could do it all again now,” He turned to Kuroo, “C’mon block a few spikes for me!”

Kuroo turned to glance over his shoulder from where he stood talking to Kenma, one hand resting comfortably on the other boy’s upper arm. 

“Hell, no Bokuto. I’m going to get **food**!” The last word was practically a shout and Bokuto whooped his aggreance, his plans for playing more immediately abandoned.

He turned to Akaashi, those eyes wide with excitement, “Are you coming?”

Akaashi shrugged, but the nonchalant gesture was undercut by the smile still on his face. There was nothing quite like post-victory euphoria. Everything seemed to take a backseat as the world just paused for a moment and let you bask in the win. It was a feeling that Akaashi hadn’t felt since playing in high school. It felt odd to be feeling it now, especially since he hadn’t played at all, but he wasn’t too worried about figuring that one out.

Eventually, Kuroo, Kenma, Akaashi, and Bokuto ended up crammed in the booth of a diner outside of campus. Thankfully Kuroo and Bokuto had showered after their games, the former’s hair taking up its usual unruly style and the latter’s lying down for once instead of gel pushing it towards the sky.

Akaashi had found himself staring at Bokuto’s hair more than once on the way over. It fell on either of his face with a middle part, his black roots stark against the silver color he bleached it.

It looked _good_. Like, distractingly good. He was almost glad that Bokuto styled it the way he did because it was almost unfair the way it looked now.

“You know, Bokuto, you should wear your hair down more often.” The words made Akaashi startle a little, his own thoughts voiced by Kuroo.

But Kuroo was just looking at Bokuto, his head tilted in consideration and one of his arms thrown casually over the back of the booth above Kenma’s shoulders. 

Kenma gave a small nod, agreeing, “It looks good like that, Koutarou.” He was looking down at his phone, typing away as he said it.

Bokuto grinned, “Nah, it just doesn’t feel quite right. People take one look at my hair and know what I’m about.” The whole table let out murmurs of agreement, no arguments there.

But Kuroo turned to Akaashi a beat later and asked, “What do you think, Akaashi? Do you like it up or down?”

Akaashi choked on the water he had been sipping. He coughed a few times before he was able to speak, and he just knew his face was bright red when he said, “I think it looks fine either way.”

Bokuto grinned and smacked a hand on Akaashi’s shoulder, “See? Keep your hairstyling opinions to yourself, Kuroo. You have no room to talk, anyway, with that mess on your head.”

Kuroo frowned and patted at his hair with his free hand. Kenma’s lip twitched up into a smile, his eyes never leaving his phone.

The conversation turned into Bokuto and Kuroo talking about different plays throughout the game and by the time that the food arrived had devolved into spikes being described with _whooshes_ and _bangs._

The table was filled with laughter and easy conversation. Kenma had even set his phone aside a few times to make some joke or sarcastic comment. 

They stayed long enough that most of the other people in the restaurant had left and the streets were practically empty as they started walking back towards campus.

Akaashi and Kenma still lived in the dorms and Kuroo and Bokuto’s apartment complex was just a block away from campus. About halfway there, Kuroo stopped in his tracks.

“ _Shit._ ”

Everyone turned to look back at him, “I left my bag in the locker rooms. I need to finish a paper before class in the morning.”

Kenma cleared his throat delicately then spoke up, “I can go with you.”

Kuroo’s eyes widened a bit, and the smile that immediately followed looked to Akaashi like an attempt at covering his surprise. Kenma crossed over to him, tucking his phone into his pocket and turning his face up to look Kuroo in the eyes.

Kenma and Kuroo turned around and started the long trek back to the gym and Akaashi could hear their quiet conversation fading as they got further away. He watched as they walked side by side and Kuroo’s fingers brushed against Kenma’s, who moved his hand so his fingers traced over Kuroo’s palm before lacing both of their fingers together. 

He wasn’t sure how long he had sat there staring after them, but Bokuto walked up beside him and the noise of scuffing feet made Akaashi jump a bit, lost in his thoughts and forgetting that the two of them were now alone.

“I’ve never really seen Kuroo like this,” Bokuto commented.

Akaashi hummed in understanding, “Kenma’s never been like this either.”

Akaashi shook his head, “To be honest I was a little worried at first, just because despite how he seems, he cares a _lot_ about everything. He just keeps it all stuffed away in his head so it comes off as indifference.”

“I guess I could see that.”

Akaashi saw Bokuto’s eyes slide over towards him without either of them turning their heads and he spoke again, “Are you still worried?”

Another shake of his head, “He seems,” he paused, searching for the right words, “settled when Kuroo is around. I’m just really happy for him.” 

Akaashi pointedly ignored the twinge in his stomach at those words. Kenma had found someone who seemed to understand him in a way that even Akaashi couldn’t grasp the depth of. He was beyond excited for his friend, the twinge was just the question that had started plaguing him a bit. The question that he had ignored for awhile now. 

_What if I never find that?_.

He had never really been preoccupied by thoughts of romance, but looking how those two interacted, like they already knew one another so well even though they had just met... It made Akaashi long for that kind of connection.

He took a deep breath, the air filling his lungs dragging him out of his thoughts and pulling him back to the present.

He turned his head to Bokuto, who was watching their friends recede into the darkness a little wistfully. Maybe his thoughts were similar to Akaashi’s in that moment.

Bokuto noticed Akaashi watching his profile and turned towards him, offering him a grin that seemed lighter than the thoughts that had been playing out over his face.

He nodded his head towards campus, “Shall we?”

Akaashi huffed out a laugh through his nose and turned back towards where his bed awaited, a bit more tired than he had been moments before.

He and Bokuto had made it all of three steps before Akaashi yelped, pitching forwards as his foot caught on a crack in the sidewalk and went crashing to the ground, knees barking in pain as they connected with the concrete.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto sounded panicked and ducked down, his hands fluttering around Akaashi’s shoulders like he wanted to help but didn’t want to accidentally hurt him more in the process.

Akaashi groaned, pushing himself up from the sidewalk and Bokuto’s hands dipped under his armpits, helping him up.

“I’m fine,” he said, trying to ease some of the concern that dominating Bokuto’s face.

Bokuto slowly lowered his hands from where he had been supporting Akaashi’s weight as he righted himself, and when he balanced his weight onto both feet he winced, hissing in a breath.

“What? What’s wrong? You’re not okay!”

“It’s fine, honestly,” Akaashi tried putting weight on his right foot again and had to clamp his lips closed against the noise that threatened to escape.

“No you’re not!” Bokuto’s hands were gesturing wildly at the foot that Akaashi was obviously favoring.

“I just twisted my ankle a little, it’s not broken or anything.”

“You can’t even walk on it though!” Bokuto’s voice had turned a little whiny with concern.

Akaashi tried taking a step towards campus to prove Bokuto wrong and nearly collapsed again. If it hadn’t been for the strong hand that reached out and caught his arm, he might have.

He sighed and the breath tasted like defeat as it left his mouth.

“Okay, fine. Maybe I’m a little hurt.”

Bokuto puffed out a little breath of satisfaction at the concession, but the concern only grew on his face. 

He pursed his lips in deliberation for a moment before waking in front of Akaashi and crouching down. 

“What are you doing?”

“Get on! I’ll carry you.”

“There’s no way you’re going to carry me.”

Bokuto just looked back towards Akaashi, his bottom lips pushed out in a pout. 

“It’s not happening.” Falling was mortifying enough. The thought of walking through campus on Bokuto’s back made Akaashi feel like he was breaking out in hives. 

“I’ll manage,” he took another step and winced, obviously not managing well. 

Bokuto stood back up and faced Akaashi, his hands on his hips and his feet spread apart like he was taking up a fighting position. 

“You’re being stubborn Akaashi.”

“I think I just have a little bit of pride left in me.”

“No one is even around to see!” Bokuto said with a gesture towards the empty street. 

“You’re here to see.”

Bokuto’s chin stuck out at a stubborn angle, “Good thing, too. Otherwise you would be crawling home, which would have been way more damaging to your pride.”

Akaashi’s gunmetal eyes bore into Bokuto like he could bully his ankle into miraculously healing. 

He held his stare for a few moments before letting out a long sigh, his eyelids falling with the sound. He could practically _hear_ the buzzing of Bokuto’s satisfaction at the defeated sound.

When opened his eyes again Bokuto was crouched down in front of him again, arms extended back and throwing a grin at Akaashi over his shoulder.

“Hop on!” After a few rather ungrateful moments Akaashi’s arms were gripping Bokuto’s shoulders and Bokuto’s hands were gripped to the back of his knees, his feet bobbing a little with every step Bokuto took. He was trying not to scowl but the frown slicing his face felt like it was starting to become permanent.

Bokuto shifted his weight, hoisting Akaashi up a little further on his hips. The silence between them had started edging into uncomfortable when Bokuto said, “Thank you. For coming to the game, I mean.”

Akaashi blinked, his scowl loosening around his words, “Yeah, of course. It was fun. It’s been years since I’ve been to a game.”

“Did you used to go?” Bokuto sounded vaguely surprised. Akaashi guessed it wasn’t super common for people to go to volleyball games, despite the fact that said games had dominated most of Akaashi’s time and energy before college.

Akaashi nodded before realizing that Bokuto couldn’t see the movement, “Yeah, you could say that.” Suddenly he was flooded with memories of playing against Bokuto back in high school. It was obvious that Bokuto didn’t remember the match, he would have been the type to bring it up immediately, and for some reason Akaashi was hesitant to remind him of it. Maybe he just didn’t want Bokuto to think of him as part of that team that he had beaten so entirely. Maybe he just wanted the upper-hand when it came to the full context of their relationship. Just another time in which Akaashi had been observing him without Bokuto ever realizing. The thought sat heavy on Akaashi, his scowl dropping into something a little guilty. A little fearful.

“Hey, Bokuto,” he was having to force the words out, each sound sticking to the roof of his mouth.

Bokuto hummed questioningly, the response too light to have picked up on Akaashi’s sudden anxiety.

“I have to admit to something. I just feel weird not letting you know.”

“Oh?” The trepidation in that syllable alone told Akaashi he had picked up on his nerves now.

“So you know how I saw you fall that day in the rain?”

“Mhm.”

“Well,” suddenly the awful timing of this was becoming apparent to Akaashi. What was Bokuto supposed to do if he was freaked out? Would he just leave him here, unable to walk? Or would he just weather the awkwardness and finish carrying Akaashi back from a sense of duty? Somehow the second option seemed worse.

“I’m not sure what you’re wanting to say,” Bokuto said, sensing Akaashi’s hesitation, “but whatever it is, I can practically _hear_ you overthinking it.”

“I just- the seat that I was at, it always looked out into the courtyard and you were just there everyday practicing your sets and,” the words were just spilling out of Akaashi’s mouth and he had the slight sense of being totally out of control of the moment, “I didn’t mean to like, start watching you or anything, but I just kind of did? And I don’t want you to think I’m a stalker or anything, I was just, like, really fascinated for some reason? I just,” his face was flaming even though Bokuto couldn’t see it, “I’m sorry if that’s really weird but I thought it would be weirder if I never told you.”

The rest of the long breath he had been holding whooshed out of his lungs.

Bokuto was quiet, his pace towards the dorms never faltering.

 _Oh god,_ Akaashi thought, _I_ really _fucked up this time. He’s going to hate me now and it’s all because I’m a creepy weirdo who stares at people from the library and who-_.

The thought was cut off by Bokuto shaking. Akaashi’s blood froze. Did he scare him _that_ much? He was already debating the merits of dropping out of school when Bokuto’s shakes erupted into laugher, Akaashi’s whole body shaking with the sounds.

“Oh man, Akaashi, you had me worried there for a second.” Akaashi’s brain was playing catch up still. He was laughing? Did that mean he wasn’t mad? It took long seconds before Bokuto’s laughs subsided enough for him to speak.

“Are you seriously apologizing for people watching?” Bokuto was still chuckling, his words dripping with amusement.

Akaashi blinked, the question processing. When he put it like that... Akaashi groaned and tipped his head foreword until to was pressed into the back of Bokuto’s shoulder.

He mumbled against the fabric, hiding his face even though Bokuto wouldn’t be able to see it anyway, “I was so worried you were going to hate me and now I’m just embarrassed.”

Bokuto tutted his tongue, “Hate you? Over something like that? Ouch, Akaashi your standards of me must be pretty low.” 

He said it as a joke but Akaashi shook his head, lifting his forehead away from Bokuto’s shoulder, “No, no. It’s not anything like that. I just,” his words were trying to stick in his mouth again but he pushed them out before they had the chance to halt entirely, “I just didn’t want to lose you.” The words hung in the air for a moment before he tacked on, “Your friendship, I mean. I was was just really stressed out because of that. Not because I thought you were bad or anything.” His words were still a little out of his control, stumbling and bumping together as he tried to express coherent thoughts.

Bokuto was quiet, thoughtful for a moment.

“Well, at least I know I was right about one thing.”

“What’s that?”

Akaashi could see Bokuto’s grin light up his face, even from behind, “You’re definitely an over-thinker, Akaashi. You should lighten up a bit.”

Akaashi lightly punched his shoulder and Bokuto laughed and it was all so normal that Akaashi felt like an idiot for stressing so much over it. Now it seemed obvious that he wouldn’t have cared.

Since meeting him, he was continually surprised by how easy it was to be friends with Bokuto. Like the two had some odd understanding of how the other thought from the moment they met. Not much lost in translation between the pair, even after such a short time and despite their differences.

“Oh my god,” Bokuto said, sounding mildly horrified, “What would you have done if I had been upset? You can’t walk right now!”

“Taken the blow to my pride and crawled, I guess.”

Bokuto shook his head, “Luckily for you I would never abandon you to crawl back home like that. I’m too much of a gentleman.” He was practically preening, now.

“Yeah,” Akaashi smiled, “Lucky me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on tumblr if you want! https://head-full-of-fish.tumblr.com/


	9. The View from the Top

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey wow i finally added chapter titles would you look at that

“But Kenmaaaa,” Bokuto was laying across the couch in the living room, taking up all the space except the corner that Kenma had folded himself into, “Why can’t I?”

Kenma lowered his phone from where he had been staring at the screen, “Just take my word on this one, Koutarou. It would just freak him out.”

Bokuto sighed. If anyone knew how Akaashi would feel, it would be Kenma. Nothing he had told him so far had led Bokuto astray, so there was no reason he shouldn’t believe him now. But still... he hated waiting. It had been weeks and Kenma’s answer was still the same as the first time Bokuto had turned to him for advice: _don’t ask Akaashi out yet_.

It had become an odd routine, Kenma coming over to their place for a few hours after his classes and Bokuto and Kuroo’s practice. Though he had been a bit quiet at first, he had quickly fell into familiarity with Bokuto, especially when Kuroo was there for Bokuto to direct most of his excess energy towards.

He had been giving advice to Bokuto on how to best pursue his roommate and friend since that first night that Bokuto had seen Akaashi walk into their apartment, all long limbs and fidgeting fingers, and _knew_ this guy was never going to get out of his head. Not with those storm-grey eyes that were hidden behind half-lids. Not with those long, delicate hands that held his pens and books like they were the one thing anchoring him to this world. Not with that dark hair that curled around his ears and looked so soft that Bokuto imagined running his fingers through...

He threw an arm across his eyes, sighing through his mouth, “Will I ever be able to ask him out? Will he even give me a chance?”

Kenma was quiet and it wasn’t until Bokuto had lifted his arm and met his gaze that he responded, “What would you do if I said no?”

Bokuto sat up, the feeling sparking along his spine said that his answer would be important and demanded movement. And better posture.

He considered the question, looking for the answer rather than just giving Kenma the one he thought would be best.

“I guess,” the weight of Kenma’s stare was making him sweat a little, or maybe that was just from his workout earlier that he hadn’t bothered to change after, “I guess I would wait until I could prove you wrong.”

Kenma’s eyes narrowed a bit, like he was testing Bokuto’s answer to a battle of wills. Apparently, whatever he saw on Bokuto’s face was enough because he sat back and pulled his phone back up to his face, saying, “You won’t have to wait too long.” Bokuto let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Damn, that little kid could be intimidating when he wanted to. And what he had said...

Bokuto leaned forward eyes wide and bright, “You think he’ll say yes if I ask him soon?”

Kenma’s eyes slid to his for a second before returning to his screen, “It depends,” he said a bit carefully.

“On what?”

Kenma sighed, an almost inaudible sound through his nose, and his eyes looked darker than they had a second ago, his thoughts somewhere Bokuto couldn’t see, “There are some things about Akaashi that you don’t know yet.” He paused before continuing, like he was afraid of Bokuto’s reaction to his next words, “And if Akaashi doesn’t open up to you about those things then I’m not sure he’s ready to admit to _himself_ how he feels about you.”

Bokuto sat back, chewing on his bottom lip, “Things like his mom?”

Kenma blinked at him, the most surprise he would allow to show on his features, “Keiji told you about his mother?”

Bokuto shook his head, “Not really. Just briefly mentioned her. I just,” he waved his hands vaguely in front of him, “put together the context clues.”

Kenma gave him another appraising look, those eyes seeing more than Bokuto wanted him to. He shifted a bit and Kenma dropped his gaze to his phone again.

“I think I may have misjudged you, Koutarou.”

“What do you mean?”

That was the precise moment that the door to the kitchen swung open and Kuroo walked out with a mug of coffee in one hand and tea in another. He passed the tea to Kenma as he said, “He thought you were just a babbling idiot with no idea who he was chasing after.”

“Hey!” Bokuto’s mouth pulled down into a frown.

Kenma rolled his eyes, the movement somehow chiding and endearing at once, “That isn’t what I thought. I just wasn’t sure what you knew you were getting into.”

“Like I said,” Kuroo said, taking a sip of his coffee and staring at Bokuto over the rim, one eyebrow raised, “Babbling idiot.”

“It’s just that Keiji tends to cage people out,” Kenma continued like Kuroo hadn’t said a word, “and most give up on him before they get the chance to actually know him at all. He pretends to not care but,” Kenma’s fingers paused their typing and he stared at some place miles and miles away from this room, “I know that it affects him more than he lets on. He’s kind of a lonely guy.”

Something in Bokuto’s chest twinged at that. From what he had seen, Akaashi was intelligent and careful and easily embarrassed and a bit more clumsy than someone would assume. How could people want to give up on someone like that, a little guarded or not?

“And now?” Bokuto asked and Kenma’s eyebrows pinched in confusion until he clarified, “What do you think of me now?”

Kenma took a long sip of his tea, staring off at a spot on the far wall before he answered, curating his words before he spoke them, “Now I think you might just be exactly what Keiji needs. Even if he doesn’t know it yet.”

Bokuto’s lips pressed together, his throat a little tight. He didn’t think Kenma was one to give out compliments often. Especially ones like that.

He glanced up at Kuroo’s face, to where his friend was watching Kenma with the softest expression. He lifted a hand and brushed a few loose strands of bleached hair behind Kenma’s ear, like he had done it a thousand times before, and Bokuto didn’t miss how Kenma seemed to lean into the touch a little. 

He glanced away, the moment too intimate, too filled with the thing that Bokuto could only dream of having, for him to bear witness to.

He stood up, clearing his throat.

“Where are you going?” Kuroo asked, his hand resting easy on Kenma’s shoulder.

“I’m gonna go play some volleyball?”

“What? Why? We just had two hours of practice, dude.”

Bokuto grinned, already backed halfway to the door, “I never said I was going to play alone.”

* * *

“No.”

“Please Akaashiiiiii.” The last syllable seemed to drag out for ages as Bokuto crouched by Akaashi’s shoulder, shaking it a bit as he pled with him, “Just a few tosses.”

Akaashi slid his eyes over to Bokuto, “It looks like you’ve already played today,” his nose scrunched, “It _smells_ like you’ve already played today.”

Bokuto’s mouth tugged down at the corners but his eyes were still teasing.

“That’s very mean of you to say, you know.” He sighed, letting his hands slip from Akaashi’s shoulder like they had doubled in weight, “I’m just a poor student athlete trying to do his best so he doesn’t lose his sports scholarship. Do you want me to lose my games and then have to leave school forever because of it?”

Akaashi rolled his eyes. _So dramatic_.

“Well I guess when you put it that way,” he flipped his notebook shut and Bokuto’s eyes lit up like a kid getting a puppy on Christmas Day.

“Really! You mean it?” They were starting to get dirty looks from the students in the chairs around them. It wasn’t even a library, so they had no real reason to get annoyed at Bokuto’s volume. Still, Akaashi told himself that it was for their sake that he folded on this argument. Better to leave now before one of them snapped at Bokuto and gave Akaashi something to be upset about.

He stood and jerked his head towards the door, “Yeah, let’s go.”

Bokuto was practically bouncing next to him as they made their way across campus.

“Let’s stop by my dorm room first,” Akaashi said, glancing down at his button down and jeans, “I need to change.”

“~Okay!~” His response was almost a song. He was _way_ too excited about this. Akaashi turned his head away from him so Bokuto wouldn’t see the smile tugging at his lips. 

Kenma was gone when they reached the dorm room, and Akaashi gestured towards his side of the room as Bokuto followed after him through the doorway, “Make yourself at home.”

Bokuto took the sentiment to heart and plopped down on Akaashi’s bed, his limbs looking far too massive for the twin mattress. He crossed his arms behind his head and took the room in with those wide eyes while Akaashi dug through his closet for a pair of athletic shorts and a t-shirt. 

“Your room is very... clean.”

Akaashi stopped rummaging through his bin of shorts for a moment to throw a look over his shoulder at Bokuto.

“Don’t look at me like that! This is weirdly clean for a guy’s dorm room, okay? You’re the weird one here.”

Akaashi turned back to his clothes but pitched his voice just loud enough so Bokuto could hear, “I don’t want to know what your version of messy is, then.” Even as he said it though, he couldn’t help but relax a little. He hadn’t exactly been expecting company so his desk was a mess of papers and he had woken up a little late so his bed hadn’t been made. At least Bokuto didn’t seem to mind.

He finally found the shorts and shirt he wanted and shrugged out of his jeans and pulled his shirt off over his head. It wasn’t until he had thrown his clothes into the hamper at the back of the closet and turned around that he remembered Bokuto was currently sitting on his bed. Staring. His mouth was slightly parted and his eyes were so wide they practically took up half the space on his face, while Akaashi stood there in nothing but his boxer-briefs. 

Akaashi felt his face redden and turned back towards the closet, “Shit, sorry I forgot you were here.”

Great. Now it looked like he was hiding. Bokuto had probably just been surprised that Akaashi had started stripping down in front of him. Anyone would be. But then Akaashi had to get all flustered and weird and make it even more uncomfortable instead of just playing it off.

“No, uh.” Bokuto’s voice sounded a little strained, “It’s fine. Really. I just-“ Akaashi could _hear_ him swallow from across the room. He didn’t finish his sentence.

Akaashi made quick work of tugging on his shirt and pulling his shorts up. He had lost a bit of weight since the last time he had worn these, and the waistband sagged a little until he tugged at the drawstring, finally facing back towards Bokuto.

“Anyway,” he was sure his face was still bright red, but he was pointed ignoring it at the moment. He jerked his thumb towards the door, “Ready?”

Bokuto cleared his throat and shook his head. Akaashi didn’t miss the slight blush on his cheeks as he said, “Yeah-um,” he rolled forward on the bed and stood up, walking past Akaashi and out the door, “Let’s go.”

 _Huh,_ Akaashi thought, _Weird._

* * *

Maybe God did exist after all. Or maybe it was Satan? Bokuto still hadn’t decided which by the time they had reached the gym, a full ten minutes after they had left Akaashi’s dorm room.

It wasn’t like Bokuto hadn’t been around his fair share of shirtless men. Hell, he had seen much more of Kuroo than he would have liked to and he wasn’t oblivious to the fact that his friend was unusually attractive.

But _holy hell_ Akaashi was _stunning_. There was really no other word for him. In fact, all of the words that Bokuto had in his vocabulary had totally abandoned him when Akaashi had peeled down into nothing but those navy blue boxer briefs. It had taken all of his concentration to form a coherent thought when Akaashi had turned towards him, his face suspended in total calm for a moment before he had remembered that Bokuto was there.

He had been caught staring like some horny, closeted middle-schooler who was just figuring out that the locker room was a dangerous place to be. Akaashi had obviously been weirded out by his gaping. God, what was _wrong_ with him?

He almost groaned out loud but caught himself, glancing to where Akaashi was walking silently beside him.

Those dark eyes slid over to his, “Are you okay?”

Bokuto straightened, not realizing until he did that his shoulders had been slowly folding in on themselves, “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?” The lightness in his voice sounded fake even to him.

“You’re just,” Akaashi’s head tipped to one side, considering, “Quiet.”

Bokuto ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head and forcing his thoughts to clear, “No, it’s nothing, really.” Akaashi gave him another long look, obviously not believing the lie.

“I swear, it’s nothing.” The more he talked, the less forced his words sounded and felt leaving his throat, he walked ahead of Akaashi, rushing the last few feet to the double doors of the gym and throwing them open with both hands, his grand entrance for no one.

He took a deep breath, and the familiar scent of the gym, the sharp tang of the floor cleaner and the heavy dust from the bleachers, cleared his mind out. He shouldn’t be pouting about being caught _literally open-mouthed_ while Akaashi was changing earlier.

He turned around, Akaashi slipping through the doors before they slammed shut, the sound echoing around the empty courts, and spread his hands wide, “Welcome to my domain.” 

“Your domain.” Akaashi responded, deadpan.

Bokuto ran over to the closet where they kept the volleyballs and net stored when the team wasn’t using the courts and gathered up what they needed. When he came back out, he found Akaashi standing in the middle of the floor, looking around.

If he didn’t know any better he would have called the look on his face awed. Or maybe even wistful. 

When he heard Bokuto approaching though, the look vanished, he features set into their usual state of careful neutrality, and Bokuto figured he must have been imagining it.

“Need help setting that up?” Akaashi nodded to the net in Bokuto’s arms.

“You know how to set up a net?”

Akaashi’s lip twitched like he was fighting off a smile, “Yeah, I do.”

“You’re a surprise at every turn,” Bokuto said, beaming and passing one end of the net off to him.

Within a few minutes the net was strung and taut. Bokuto took a step back and appraised it with his hands on his hips. His lips pursed, “You really do know how to set that up.” Akaashi had done it as fast as anyone on the team, his long fingers never faltering once.

“You sound surprised.”

“I mean, I know you said you could, but..” He turned towards Akaashi, a thought suddenly jumping into his head, “You didn’t play volleyball at one point, did you Akaashi?” It came out louder than he intended, excitement and disbelief amplifying it.

Akaashi’s lips tilted into a sly smile and grabbed a ball from the basket where they were stacked, not responding. He nodded towards the net, “You said you wanted to spike, right?”

Bokuto could have swooned.

He bounded up towards the net, practically vibrating with anticipation as Akaashi threw the ball up into the air. It came floating back down towards him and his fingers cushioned it, angling slightly before they launched it in a perfect arc towards Bokuto.

Bokuto let out a whoop of joy as he jumped, the sound of his palm slapping the ball swallowed by the slap of the ball against the floor. It was the perfect spike. The perfect _set_.

He whipped towards Akaashi as he landed, “HOLY SHIT! YOU DID PLAY!”

Akaashi burst out laughing at the shock on Bokuto’s face, doubling over and clutching his stomach. It was the most beautiful sound Bokuto had ever heard, and he swore his heart halted for a second at the noise before he was jettisoned back into motion.

“Akaashi, Akaashi, that was AMAZING!” He didn’t bother checking his volume or excitement as he ran up to Akaashi, who was still laughing too hard to speak.

“Why didn’t you tell me you played?”

Akaashi wiped his eyes, his laughter finally under control enough for him to get some words out. He was smiling and Bokuto was struggling to breathe at the sight. Man, he had it _bad_.

“I’m not really sure, but I’m glad I didn’t.”

Bokuto couldn’t help but return the smile, his grin so wide his cheeks ached, “Do it again.”

Akaashi nodded, that smile still lingering on his face, and Bokuto determined right then and there to do anything in his power to keep that look on his face for as long as he could.

“You have to set the ball to me first this time, though.”

Bokuto grabbed the next ball on the stack and ran a few steps back, “Yeah! Okay! Here goes!”

Again, the set launched the ball from Akaashi’s hands to meet Bokuto’s outstretched palm at the exact right moment.

“Hey, hey, hey!” There was nothing quite like that moment when the ball, the setter, the spiker, and the court met in perfect unity. Bokuto was practically on cloud nine, and Akaashi was right there with him.

“Again!” He called, and Akaashi tossed him another ball to set as he ran back towards the back of the court.

On and on they went. Just two small figures on an otherwise empty court, playing for no one in particular. Not every set or spike was as perfect as those first two, but neither really cared. 

And for every shout of joy that the one with the silver hair let out, the dark-haired one responded with a smile that couldn’t quite seem to fade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mental image of Bokuto’s continuous gay panic and Akaashi’s laugh is what’s going to get me through this week. 😌💕


End file.
